The long ordeal of Bootstrap Bill
by Rose de Sharon
Summary: 3 months post AWE: my take on Bootstrap Bill Turner’s past, why he became a pirate and how Davy Jones found him at the bottom of the ocean.
1. They took away my father

**The long ordeal of Bootstrap Bill**

By Rose de Sharon

**Disclaimer:** any recognizable character belongs to Mickey Mouse.

**Author's notes:**

- English isn't my native language and I don't have a beta-reader, all mistakes are mine.

- Father/son pure love!

- Flames will be used to increase the power of my radiators. It's cold here in Canada!

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**Chapter 1: They took away my father**

"Papa, may I ask you a question?"

"Bootstrap" Bill Turner raised his eyes from his lightened pipe to look at his son. As usual, the Captain of the _Flying Dutchman_ and its First Mate had retired to the Grand Cabin for the night; officially, it was to discuss the next day's route, but every crewmember knew that the Turners wanted a private talk between themselves, catching up for lost times after years of separation.

The elder Turner was sitting in a comfortable armchair while Will had been standing by the large, panel-subdivided windows, staring at the ink-like night. The sea was tranquil and the moon was out, its silver light dancing on the dark waves. The Grand Cabin's candlesticks were illuminated and it added warmth within the facility, completing the cozy feeling given by the elaborated furniture, the framed paintings and engravings, the cushioned chairs and couch. The navigational maps were neatly rolled, tied and stocked in a corner and the Captain's desk was immaculate, a testimony that everything aboard the _Flying Dutchman _was under control.

Will hadn't been talkative since the beginning of the evening but his father respected his silence. He knew it would be just a matter of time before the young man would engage in a conversation. In the meantime, Bill Turner had been smoking his pipe (he had renewed with tobacco shortly after regaining his human form) and enjoying his favorite pastime: feasting his eyes on the sight of his cherished son.

Bill and Will Turner had been slowly rebuilding their relationship, gone cold from Bill's long absence. Talking wasn't always easy for the older man, who permanently felt like dragging behind him a heavy bag tied to his neck and loaded with bricks made of shame, guilt and embarrassment. But step by step, taking reassurance in his son's obvious affection for him, Bill had been able to open up, giving Will some glimpses about his enslavement aboard the _Flying Dutchman_ and serving under Davy Jones' tyranny. He knew that the rope tying him to this bag of bricks won't be totally severed before his son would be released from his 10-year-long soul-ferrying duty, but at least the threads could be cut, one tiny bit after another, giving Bootstrap Bill little amounts of relief each time.

Bill had sworn to himself that he would never refuse or hide anything to Will, that why he answered to his son:

"Of course, Will."

"It's an indiscreet question and I don't want to hurt or upset you..." said Will while turning around to face his father.

Alarmed, Bootstrap Bill raised from his armchair, his pipe carelessly laid down on a nearby table. Will seemed reluctant to talk and yet, it looked like he couldn't stop himself to ask the question burning on his lips. The elder Turner couldn't bear the idea of his son being uncomfortable, not even for a minute, so he put his two hands on Will's shoulders and looked at the youngster straight in the eyes.

"Ask me anything, Will. God's wounds, you deserve it."

The young man's chocolate-brown gaze stared at his father's blue eyes for a moment, and then Will said:

"Papa, I'd like to know… How did you become a pirate?"

Bootstrap Bill stood agape for a while, then he bent his head and let go a long, loud sigh. The dreaded question had finally arrived. He didn't resent Will for asking it – the courageous, loyal, gold-hearted young man owned the right to know after missing having his father in his life for too many years. But Bill Turner was also afraid his blooming relationship with his son would be damaged by his confession, like early spring flowers were destroyed by an unexpected return of the frost. What would William think of him, after learning why his father had left his family to go pirating?

Will's voice rose again, interrupting Bill's thoughts: "I've upset you, Papa; I am sorry…"

"There's no need to be, my Little One," answered Bootstrap Bill straight away. "You did nothing wrong. You have every right in the world to ask me this question. In fact, if I'd been brave enough, I would have told you weeks ago. But I was scared…"

"What of, Papa?"

"I was scared to disappoint you, to not be worthy of the enormous sacrifices you've done to free me…" Bill's voice trailed away in embarrassment, before adding: "Truth to be told, I still am."

"Then forget my question. It's not important, after all."

"No, Will, it **is** important. Besides, I don't want to hide anything from you, may it be my past or my feelings."

Understanding that his father's story would be a long one, Will gently guided the older man towards the Great Cabin's couch; both men sat down and Bootstrap Bill took one of his son's hands between his calloused and scarred owns.

"Will," said the elder Turner, "before I begin, I want to tell you this: I love you with all my heart."

"Papa, I do know how much you care about me," answered Will truthfully.

"I never wanted to leave you and your mother. But Will, I have been in pain for years and I was hurting so much… So much…"

The elder Turner remained quiet for a few moments, trying to recollect his thoughts. Then he started telling his story:

"I was born in Glasgow. My mother ran away with another sailor when I was four years old and even though I cried my eyes out, she never came back. I had no siblings so through my boyhood there was just us two, my father and me. He was slaving all day long at the quays, loading and unloading crates and barrels from merchant ships. It was heart-breaking to watch him come home in a state of complete exhaustion, clutching his pitiful fee in his hand, too tired to even kick his shoes off! Apart the huge void left by my mother's abandonment and our permanent struggling for money, I can say I was happy with your Grandpa. He was of the tall, strong, silent type but whenever I needed a hug or wanted to ask a question, he was here for me."

Will smiled while hearing the description of his grandfather: Bootstrap Bill had just made a portrait of himself without even realizing it. A chip off the old block!

"A few days short before my seventh birthday, I had to start working at a weaving workshop to make ends meet. My job was to slip inside those wooden machines to repair the threads whenever they broke, and it happened often. I got injured on the job many times, and twice I almost got mangled by the giant mechanisms. I hated that work with a passion because I already wanted to sail aboard a merchant ship, but it was impossible to enlist as a cabin boy before reaching the age of eleven years old. And I had to consider myself lucky, because a lot of seven-year-olds were sent to work at the coal mines and never came back alive!"

"I never resented my father for making me work in that weaving Hell; I knew that he worried all day long that I might be killed or maimed by the weaving machines. But I didn't know that he was smuggling goods while breaking his back at the docks. It was the only way for him to earn some much-needed extra money and besides, it wasn't highway robbery: he just picked up a few things stocked inside the crates and sold them to Receive Rob, a notorious fence in town. The ships were overloaded with merchandises; no one would notice a few ounces of tobacco were missing, or spices, or even a yard of silk. Bookkeeping wasn't very thorough at the time; the harbor masters barely knew how to read and write, or they were also stealing on the docks to increase their meager wages. My father would only intercept a few baubles and sold them quickly, earning a shilling or two for his troubles that would help to buy more food for the pot."

"And then, what happened? Did he get greedy?" asked Will, even if he doubted that very much. Avarice wasn't a flaw running in the Turner's family tree.

"No, my son. But your grandfather wasn't the only smuggler on the fence's payroll. Receive Rob had a lot of contacts in the docks, and some of them got the taste for easy-earned money. They started to seal precious goods and Rob got impatient and greedy, a dangerous combination. And what was bound to happen, happened: one of the smugglers got caught on the act of stealing a precious item. He denounced Receive Rob, who got also arrested and he gave the names of all his accomplices; my father was among them. The judge sentenced Rob to jail, since he had enough money to buy his way out, but all the smugglers were sent to the gallows."

Will's face paled at his father's words: watching a man dying at the end of a rope was a horrendous sight, that why he had always refused to attend executions during his stay at Port Royal. The very idea of joining a crowd that yelled in enthusiasm whenever the neck of a doomed wretch broke had always revolted him. Jack Sparrow's illustrious career had almost come to this _"a sudden drop and a sudden stop"_ kind of end, if not for Will and Elizabeth's interventions. And to think his grandfather had met this sad fate for stealing mundane things, like tobacco or spices…

Then Will noticed tears were gathering in his father's eyes. Acting out of impulse, he squeezed Bill's hand as tightly as he could to make the older man realize his son's silent support.

Bootstrap Bill's voice trembled as he recalled awful memories: "I saw it all, Will. I was ten years old at the time, and some town officials had thought it would be a good idea to force families to watch their loved ones being strangled on the Executions' Dock, as _"an example for the children"_. I daresay it was another torture for the condemned men to see their little ones crying and screaming, trying to hide behind their mothers' skirts; some of them were barely old enough to understand what was happening to their Pa… The women were begging for grace – begging on their knees! But all their pleas fell on deaf ears. One by one the men were hanged. As for your Grandpa… it took a long moment for the noose to kill him: he was tall and very strong. And I had to watch it, Will. I was forced to watch while my father struggled for air, kicked his feet desperately to reach the ground and then his body convulsed before finally remaining still forever. Oh God, I'll never forget the pain I've felt, it was like being knifed in the gut."

Will was in a tumult of feeling; the cruelty of the disproportionate punishment was already awful, but to think ten-year-old Bill had to watch his father being executed... He suddenly got ashamed of himself for asking his father why he became a pirate. He should have been wiser and let bygones be bygones!

"I am sorry, Papa! I am sorrier than I can say for asking you that question. Please, accept my apologies."

Startled, Bill looked up and saw the deep concern in his son's dark eyes. Once again, Will was placing the well-being of others atop of his own but his father wouldn't have any of this. The elder Turner tightened his grip on Will's hand and looked at him through his tear-filled eyes:

"You have **nothing** to apologize for, Will. It is your **right** to know… and I **want** you to know, my son."

A moment of silence followed, during which the two men looked at each other. Will knew his father didn't lie. A few weeks ago, the young Captain had accidentally overheard a conversation between some of his crewmembers who were playing cards while off-duty; the men were jokingly saying that if Bootstrap Bill ever wanted to deny his affection for his son, he'd have to gouge out his eyes first! This accidental eavesdropping had caused Will to smile; he had felt both touched and moved that Bill's unconditional devotion for him had been witnessed by the _Flying Dutchman_'s shipmates.

How could Bill Turner ever lie to Will, with his blue eyes shining with love whenever he looked at his son?

Will squeezed his father's hand before asking in a quiet voice: "What happened afterwards?"

TBC…


	2. There's something about Mary

**Chapter 2: There's something about Mary**

**Disclaimer:** same as chapter 1.

**Author's notes:**

- The POTC movies' screenwriters have never named Will's mother, so I've called her Mary Johnson. My little contribution to the POTC world, folks!

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Bill remained silent for a moment, clutching his son's hand as if it were a lifeline. Will showed no signs of impatience, knowing this confession would be hard and tedious for his father; and he didn't want to do anything that might damage their blooming relationship, either!

Then Bill's voice rose again: "I was sent back home, since the town officials had granted us a time for mourning, but executed men weren't granted a grave in the cemetery. Outlaws' corpses were thrown to the sea from a cliff outside the city's limits, so it would be a complete waste of my time to try to retrieve my father's body. Besides, I already knew what was going to happen: our landlord would kick me out of the house and I would be sent to the nearest lice-infested orphanage. So while waiting for nightfall, I packed a few things: my best clothes, some food, and my father's knife… The one I gave you before you escaped the _Flying Dutchman_."

_The same one I used to carve out your heart__ of gold… Oh Will, my darling, my Little One!_

"It belonged to Grandpa?"

Bootstrap Bill swallowed hard before continuing: "Yes, my love. As soon as night came, I ran away from home and never looked back. I hid in the docks until morning came; then, I signed the roster of a merchant ship which was leaving the next day for North America. I've had a growing spree a few months before my father's death and I was already taller than the other boys; so the captain was easily convinced that his new cabin boy was twelve years old of age, instead of ten."

"My sailor's apprenticeship has been difficult, but like I've said I was already bigger than the other lads of my age. In spite of the disgusting food and living conditions, my body kept on growing and my muscles developed as well, and that was a blessing: terrible things can happen to youngsters serving aboard ships, like being raped by crewmembers in order to "make them men". But no one dared to try this kind of horrendous initiation with me: my silence and my bulk scared the cowards away. At age fourteen, I've already reached my adult height."

"Years flew by. I became a good sailor and I buried myself into work. I saw beautiful countries: France, North Africa, Greece, and Denmark... All my hard work earned me only a few coins, of course, but I was young and single: I didn't mind as long as my pay allowed me to eat, drink and spend some time with the hired ladies. I didn't remain in Glasgow for too long, it would have brought back too many bad memories about my father and the pain I've felt from his death. When the little money ran out, I just enlisted on another ship and went for another round of sailing. The sea was my freedom but it came with a hard price to pay, though: between wars, pirates and accidents, a sailor's life is a rough one."

"I didn't think much about my future because I thought for sure I didn't have one. And then I turned twenty-seven years old; I came back to Glasgow from a trip to West Africa, but this time things looked grim. The trading company I was working for sacked all its sailors, including me. Finding another job was very difficult because of a scandal that had shaken England's economy to the core – some kind of a financial plan a London bigwig had concocted, which turned into disaster – so all the companies were holding their breath, waiting for better times while living on their assets. Any man who was unemployed at the time could start digging his own grave."

"I wandered aimlessly on the quays, trying to find any kind of menial work, but to no avail. I found a place to sleep in an abandoned crate and I ate food coming from garbage pounds to survive. At nights, people slept in the streets, and of course crime was rising. Many women sold their bodies, and I often saw a corpse lying in the gutter with his throat sliced open. The authorities tried to maintain order by hanging more and more poor devils, but hunger made people bold! There were hard times, Will. More than once, I've dreamt that I'd be killed in my sleep for the few copper coins left in my pockets. The pain from my father's execution was back, mixed with the tortures of hunger, and it felt like Hell's darkness was closing in to crush me alive, but then… I met _her_."

Bootstrap Bill's voice became suddenly so tender when he said "_her_" that Will felt a warmth burning inside his chest, as if his missing heart had been put back in its rightful place for a moment.

"You mean… my mother?" asked Will, his throat tightening with emotion.

"Aye, my darling. Your Mama, my Mary. She was working as a serving wench in a waterfront tavern and she was simply wonderful. Mary had no family, no money and almost no future; a lot of young women would have drowned inside a bottle of alcohol in her place, or turned into occasional prostitutes to survive. But Mary didn't let life's hardships discourage her and she never condemned the ones who did so. She had such a streak of honesty within her, combined with a backbone made of steel, that whatever befell her she would just shrug it off and keep on walking a straight path. She was like you, Will: beautiful, inside and out."

Will gently intertwined his fingers with his father's, but he couldn't hide a blush hearing Bill's gentle words of praise.

"I watched Mary every morning when she walked down the quays with her quick, springy step, coming and going back from the market with a basket loaded with food and vegetables for the tavern's kitchen. Every time I saw her, my empty stomach felt like it had been stuffed with living, fluttering butterflies. How did she ever noticed that tall sailor who was admiring her from a distance, looking like a perfect idiot, I'll never know! But I was too shy to even talk to her: what could I say? That I was penniless, hungry and head-over-heels in love with her? But miracles do happen…"

_(Flashback)_

_She was crossing the quays with her basket tucked under her arm,__ the noblest woman Bill Turner had ever seen in his life. With her dark brown eyes, her light blond hair flowing on her shoulders, her slim and strong silhouette, she had all the allure of a mermaid princess disguised as a servant to escape from a plot led by some conspirators hiding in The King of the Seas' underwater castle, her father. _

_Bill was looking at her, fantasying for the hundredth time about him being her hero: she would be locked up in the brig of a pirate ship, its Captain being the conspirators' accomplice, and Bill would hack at them and free her from her cell. But then she'd be kidnapped and he would cut down the conspirators one after another, fight the evil wizard and the banshee, and then cross haunted marshes full of ghosts and skeletons just before finding her chained to a rock to be eaten by a monstrous sea serpent and he would save her and… and…_

_And she had changed route and was walking straight in Bill's direction!"_

_(End of flashback)_

"I was so panicked I could have fled!" said the elder Turner. "But at the same time, I couldn't detach my eyes from her so I stayed rotted at the spot. I thought she was going to scold me for staring at her every time she walked by, and of course I would make a fool out of myself by stammering or saying the wrong thing. But then she stopped and smiled at me, just before saying: "Hello, I am Mary Johnson!""

"Oh Will, it was like watching the sun dissolving winter gray clouds and lightening the sky with all its glory. It was truly a miracle day! Mary took me to the waterfront tavern, stuffed my stomach with food and by the end of the day, I've found a job on a ship leaving for Holland and we were engaged. Love at first sight… I'd never thought it would happen to me, plain old Bill Turner, but it did. My solitude had finally ended."

"Three months later, we were married and I thought the sun rose and set in Mary's eyes. The pain from my father's death was slowly receding; but it got replaced by a nagging feeling that I was unworthy of Mary: I couldn't help but thinking that she deserved a man who earned more money and who could offer her a good life. I was only a sailor and no matter how hard I worked, we could barely make ends meet. Mary was slaving away at this tavern full of more or less recommendable men; more than once she saved it from total disaster by keeping the books and supervising the supplies, even though her boss didn't bother to give her a raise."

Will nodded, remembering a similar situation during his apprenticeship at John Brown's smithy. Will had turned into the finest sword-maker of Port Royal but it had always been his permanently-drunk boss who had earned all the credit for his hard work. That's why he answered:

"Mama always talked about you in loving tones, during your absence. I'll never forget her smile whenever she shared a memory of you with me. Papa, she knew she could never have met a better man than you."

This declaration earned the young Captain of the _Flying Dutchman_ a bone-crushing hug from his First Mate and it lasted for a long, long moment. Will clung to his father, his face pressed against the older man's shoulder and he could feel Bill's hand cradling his head, the fingers gently messing his long dark tresses.

Mary Turner née Johnson had been gone for years, but her indefectible affection had survived; it had given her son Will, aged twelve at the time, the courage to seek for his father in the Caribbean, braving impossible odds and terrible dangers. It was Mary's souvenir who had helped Bill through his years of piracy, his tortures at the bottom of the sea, and then his slavery under Davy Jones' tyranny.

And Mary's love and intelligence were still alive, shining in their son's eyes.

"My William, my William!" whispered Bill Turner over and over again, wrapping his strong arms around his son and holding him tight.

TBC…


	3. Bundle of joy

**Chapter 3: Bundle of joy**

**Disclaimer:** same as chapter 1.

**Author's notes: **

- This chapter contains reference to one of my stories, _"A baby boy_", but it is not an obligation to read it to understand the plot.

- Following the AWE DVD release: a booklet inside the DVD case states that Will can't be freed of the curse and he's doomed to see his family only once every ten years. Since I don't care a damn about what the booklet says (so there!), in my stories Will is reunited with Elizabeth and their son after 10 years of soul-ferrying to live happily ever after with them, because Elizabeth's faithfulness breaks the curse.

---------------------------------

Bootstrap Bill finally released the younger man, albeit reluctantly (he'd hug his son close to his heart all day long, if he could) but he kept Will's hand locked between his owns.

The souvenir of Mary Johnson Turner had released a flood of emotions within the heart of the former pirate, the most powerful being shame for lying to Mary in his letters about having found a better paid job in a Caribbean merchant shipping company; melancholy, knowing he wouldn't see his wife again before it'd be his turn to be ferried to the Other World – and Bill prayed the Heavens everyday to spare Will from the sorrowful task to ferry his father's soul; bitterness, since it had never been out of his own choice to leave his family in the first place, but other people's evil deeds – terrible events that Bootstrap Bill had yet to tell his son - had coerced the elder Turner to never set foot in England again.

Also, Bill felt relief that his wife's memories were so vivid, that they hadn't been erased by the years spent serving under the mast of a ghost ship commanded by the Devil's representative, and by Bill's prolonged stay in the brig that had brought him to madness. After Will had become Captain of the _Flying Dutchman_, its crewmembers hadn't only regained their human forms: their memories had came back too, slowly but steadily, making them remembering their loved ones, their former lives as simple sailors just before accidents or combats had brought them kneeling on the ghost ship's deck, at the mercy of Davy Jones.

Some of the _Dutchman's_ sailors had felt shameful for not being strong enough in the past to reject Jones' blackmail, for accepting his dupery disguised as a way to forestall death. Consequently, they had turned into mindless freaks of nature, defending their cruel Captain and their ruined ship at all costs, crying out in anguish every time Jones or the _Flying Dutchman_ –their gaoler and their prison, respectively – had been endangered.

But Will's luminous presence aboard the ship, along with his forgiveness towards their past actions, had given hope to the shipmates. They were now unconditionally loyal to their new Captain, feeling – just like Bill did – that the young Turner was their redemption, and the sailors wouldn't do anything to compromise their chances to reach peace.

"What happened next?" asked Will.

"Nothing else but what can happen to a man and a woman married and in love: a child!" answered the elder Turner. "It was **you**, my William. I will always remember the day Mary had announced her pregnancy. It was a Sunday morning and while I was shaving in our bedroom, I offered her to go on a picnic …

_(Flashback)_

"_What do you think, Mary? It's too fine a day to stay at home, so do you feel like going outside town and have a nice lunch on the grass? We could spend the day walking by the cliffs, away from those smelly streets for a change!"_

_Mary Turner hugged her beloved Bill from behind, her hands slowly caressing his muscled bare chest, and then deposited a tender kiss on the man's soap-covered cheek._

"_That's a wonderful idea, husband mine. We both have worked very hard for weeks, it is high time we enjoyed some time off! I'll pack a basket and then we can go enjoy our picnic. We will have a whole day all for ourselves!"_

_Bill Turner hid his smile behind his razor. He was picturing in his mind Mary walking barefoot in the grass while picking up flowers, her light blond hair flowing free in the wind, her face illuminated by the sunshine. The cliffs were covered with heather shrubs, thus making it easy for lovers to hide from the prying eyes of the very rare passersby. Oh, it was going to be a romantic day… VERY romantic…_

"_And you are right, my big strong oak," added Mary before leaving for the kitchen, using the affectionate nickname she had given her husband years ago. "A day spent in the fresh air will be very good for the three of us."_

"_You speak the truth, my love!" said the tall sailor while resuming to his shaving. "It will do much good to…"_

_Bill's hand, still holding the razor, suddenly froze nearby his cheek._

_The three of us?_

_What did that mean?_

_The three of us?_

_Bill's reflection was staring at him with confused eyes, unable to comprehend what his wife had said. Soap was dripping from his face to the floor, making a slippery mess at Bill's feet, but the man didn't even notice, too busy trying to understand Mary's words._

_The three of us? But that must be a mistake; there was only Mary and him in their household…_

_Bill's blue eyes suddenly went wide in realization. The razor fell in the washing basin with a clang, splattering water everywhere. The big man tried to call out for his wife but the shock had made him speechless. He rushed out of their bedroom, not even bothering to dry his soap-covered face with a towel. Mary was in the kitchen, tucking apples, bread loafs and ham slices in a basket and she raised her head at the sight of her messy-haired, half-shaved husband, looking so comical with that stunned look on his face!_

"_The THREE of us?" whispered Bill Turner._

_Mary smiled._

_A thunderous whoop of joy resounded across the little kitchen and Mary found herself in her husband's arms, swung around by her William who was shouting, laughing, crying at the same time, kissing her all over as if they had been separated for years. Bill tried to talk but only a few words could come out of his tightened throat, like "Love", "God", "A baby", "Oh, Mary" but his wife needed no further reassurances that Bill Turner was overjoyed by this new addition to their family. She clung to his bare shoulders while his strong arms crushed her to his chest, nearly preventing her from breathing._

_A moment later the parents-to-be calmed down and Mary found herself sitting on the kitchen's stone tiles, held in the lap of her kneeling husband. A fire erupted within her body at the sight of his half-nakedness and she kissed Bill passionately on the lips._

_Bill and Mary Turner went to their picnic much later that day._

_But the cliffs' heather shrubs turned out to be __very__ romantic, indeed._

_(End flashback)_

"It was a very cold January day when you were born, Will, but you brought much happiness and warmth in our house. You were so small and so strong! I've loved you from the first moment I ever saw you, my Little One. I wanted to give you the world, the sky, the whole universe..."

Bootstrap Bill's voice trailed off, remembering the overwhelming love he had felt for his newborn son when holding him in his arms for the first time. A bundle of joy wrapped in a bundle of blankets: that had been little William Turner, the most beautiful baby in the world!

The infant's presence had had a soothing effect on his father's mind, releasing him from that nagging feeling that _"He could do better"_ for his family. At the time, there had been only one explanation for Bill: it was because his baby boy was a gift from the Heavens… _"And he is still,"_ silently completed Bootstrap Bill. _"Years of abandonment and hardships haven't been able to damage his beautiful shining soul_ _You've been my angel from the day you were born, Will."_

Will was looking at Bill's blue eyes, reading the depths of the older man's love for him. The young Captain had enjoyed hearing Bill narrating the happiness he had felt at the news he was going to be a father and, for a moment, Will considered telling the elder Turner about a letter from his wife he had just received…

After the maelstrom battle, Joshamee Gibbs, settling himself comfortable in Tortuga with nice female company, had contacted the _Flying Dutchman_ by strapping a note, tucked into an oiled envelope, to the floating corpse of a sailor who had drowned into the harbor's waters after drinking too much rum – Gibbs had known the poor wretch's soul would be picked up by the ghost ship. In his note, the former First Mate of the _Black Pearl_ was offering to be the Turner couple's messenger: Gibbs knew of a small, quiet creek in Tortuga, where it would be easy to deposit letters and packages in a shallow cavern hidden between rocks, using the place as a mailbox. Will had accepted Gibbs' offer with immense gratitude and for the past three months, he had received six love-filled letters from his Elizabeth.

A few days ago, a letter bearing very important news had arrived. Will hadn't said a word about its contents, but he had kept the letter tucked under his shirt, close to his scarred chest, after having read it.

Should he tell his father about what Elizabeth had written right now, or should he wait?

But before Will could make up his mind, Bill's voice rose again: "After your birth, Mary left her serving job at the tavern to start her own business as a seamstress…"

TBC….

Cliffie! What did Elizabeth write in her letter? Just wait and you'll see! ;-)


	4. Don't mess with Bill

**Chapter 4: Don't mess with Bill**

**Disclaimer:** same as chapter 1

**Author's notes:**

- Due to an upcoming vacation, I won't be able to post new chapters before January 2008. I'd like to wish to all my readers and reviewers a merry Christmas and a great new year. Happy holidays to all!

-----------------------------

"After your birth, Mary left her job at the waterfront tavern to start her own business as a seamstress – much to my relief since serving drinks was hard on her legs, but also because I didn't trust those patrons soaking themselves with alcohol all day along. Ugly things could happen very quickly, even if Mary knew how to defend herself against a drunken opponent: she was only a few inches above five feet tall, but she could throw a mean punch!" added Bill with a smile.

"Your mother was wonderful at sewing things like clothes, curtains, bed sheets… She even knew embroidery, and she was the fastest knitter of all Glasgow. When she was expecting you, she knitted the tiniest clothes I've ever seen, which fitted you perfectly – and all this from discarded balls of wool she bought for a few pennies in the shops. Mary had built her little side-line clientele over the years, so she decided it was time for her to make a living with her needles. I could have watched her all day along, sewing dresses and shirts – but Mary was aware I'd have to sign the roster of a merchant ship and to sail once again. That's why she often asked me if I could take you out for walks while she was working – she said she had to concentrate on her sewing, but I knew better: she wanted me to spend some time with you, before taking another job. Nothing pleased me more than showing you the docks and the ships…"

_(Flashback)_

_Bill Turner was walking down the quays in long strides, holding a blanket-wrapped __bundle in the crook of his right arm. Anyone who'd looking at him would think the strongly-built sailor had a strange behavior: he would stop at every merchant ship tied at the harbor to point at the elaborated sculpted figureheads, at the various merchandises stocked in crates and barrels, or even at the seagulls sliding gently in the wind, and then look inside the bundle and murmuring to it. To the eyes of pedestrians, there were no doubts that this man was the town lunatic!_

_But Bill Turner didn't care about how he looked or acted: he was busy showing the wonders of the world to __Will, his four-month-old son!_

_Baby Will was tucked inside the blanket; his little body had disappeared under the layers of clothes Mary had lovingly dressed him with, his head was covered with a knitted cap so the only visible parts of his were his face and his tiny hands. But every time his father would point at something, Will would look with those attentive eyes of his, making Bill unabashedly proud of his infant son. Will's gaze had darkened daily until it had reached the chocolate-brown color of his mother's, but his features were slowly shaping into his father's. And all this was normal because Will was, of course, the most wonderful child of the world!_

"_See this ship, Will?" said Bill while pointing an imposing three-mast __ship anchored at the quays, and the baby answered with a gurgle. It's the Reine Anne de Bretagne, she's French and she's importing wood and construction materials here. The other one is the Poseidon, from Liverpool who is loading goods before leaving for the Americas, and this one is…"_

"_Hey, Turner!" barked a voice across the quays._

_Bill turned round, surprised, and then his eyes darkened when he realized who had called out his name: it was Anton Blair, a sailor whom Bill had worked with on four trips, and Turner didn't have any good memories of this shipmate. Blair was a mocking man who liked nothing better than to provoke fights: he would slander his comrades' wives or their work until he'd get a violent reaction, and then he would complain loudly to the captains afterwards about being "mistreated". Bill had saw more than once sailors being punished, even flogged, after Blair had played the victim about receiving punches from them. An obnoxious troublemaker, the man was hated by every sailor of Glasgow._

_And now, Blair was looking at Bill Turner with his laughing, malevolent eyes._

"_What's wrong with ya, Turner? Hav' you gone bonkers?"_

"_W__hat do you care, Anton Blair?" quietly replied the tall sailor._

"_Well, methink it me duty to inquire when a madman roams in the streets of o' good city, before calling out for help and have him locked up!"_

"_Very funny, Blair," answered Bill before turning to leave. He noticed another man, Joe Taggart, who was smoking his pipe while seated on a crate, witnessing the whole situation. _

_With his wrinkled face, his white beard and whiskers and his piercing __dark eyes, Joe could easily be a model for the statue of a typical sea dog. No one knew his exact age and there were hundreds of rumors and fantastic stories about him buzzing in the taverns, like "Joe has seen real mermaids with his own eyes", or "Joe has fought the Kraken with his bare hands", "Joe can predict the future", even "Joe has sea water in his veins" but one thing stood up for sure: even the most seasoned captain couldn't rival with Taggart's knowledge of the sea._

_Bill had known __the old sea dog all his life so he came closer to salute the weathered-faced man:_

"_Hello, Joe."_

"_Hello, young master Turner. What do you have here?" asked Taggart, pointing at the bundle firmly held by the tall man._

_Bill bent down and partially removed the blanket to give Joe a better look at the precious cargo hiding inside._

"_Joe Taggart, meet__ my son, William."_

_Joe looked at the infant's face, the healthy-looking skin, the big dark eyes staring at him. Will cooed, waved his fists as if he'd tried to grab a few strands of the old man's white beard and the wrinkles in the corners of Joe's eyes lifted in amusement. He put the palm of his hand on Will's forehead and declared:_

"_This is a__ beautiful and intelligent child."_

"_That he is," answered Bill, glowing with pride. "Will is truly wonderful. He's a good-natured boy who almost never cries; he eats well, and he loves to play."_

_Taggart's voice suddenly took a dreamy tone while the old man's eyes stared at the baby's face: "He will know hardships… But love will always be his strength and his companion… He will fight for his father… And true love will set him free…"_

_Bill suddenly got __unnerved, remembering Joe's reputation as a soothsayer. The mere mention of his child suffering from hardships was enough to scare the big man out of his wits, but what did Joe meant by saying his son would fight for him? He was but a sailor, nothing much to defend!_

_Blair's sneering voice rang at Bill's elbow level: __"So, that's the thing yer were fussing about? That scrap of a baby?"_

_Bill turned his furious face at the __mocking man and he briefly considered entrusting Will to Joe's care so he could have both his hands free to punch Anton Blair in the face, but for the life of him he couldn't find within him the strength to release the hold he had on his treasure._

"_That's__ so funny!" laughed Blair with a high-pitched voice, loud enough for all Glasgow to hear. "A big strong man like yerself, going mushy all over a tiny baby! Ye'r playin' nanny?"_

"_I don't give a damn about your opinion, Blair!" barked Bill, and the sailor got taken aback a bit: during his four trips with Turner, he had never seen the tall, broad-shouldered man raising his voice or his fists. Despite multiple provocations, Bill had never lost his patience with Anton Blair so the troublemaker had given up on him to search for more quick-tempered preys._

_Joe Taggart looked at Bill Turner's eyes and frowned: storm ahead!_

"_Leave us alone, Blair" growled the old man._

"_What, yer taking his side?" snarled the troublemaker at the sea dog, "Yer siding with that big idiot? Ye should see him at sea, he never says a word, like he's too afraid ta talk! At our last trip, Captain Durand had thought him mute!"_

"_Besides, Turner" added Blair with a sardonic smile, "How do ya know that whelp is yours? Ya trust your wife? No man should trust a woman, 'specially a sailor's wife! But you never doubt yer wife, oh no! 'Cause yer too dumb for that! Big idiot, she probably cuckolded you a hundred times by now! And it ain't natural for a man ta play nanny with a kid, anyway: whip him into shape, that's what I say!" _

_Blair slammed his hand on the blanket-wrapped bundle as if __he wanted to grab Will to prove his point…_

… _And the next moment he was sitting on the quays' cold stone pavement, with a broken nose and his two front teeth missing. Bill Turner was towering over him, the knuckles of his left hand scratched and bloodied, still holding his son in the crook of his right arm. The tall sailor looked inside the bundle, worried that the commotion or Blair's dirty hand may have upset the baby, but Will was calmly looking at his father with the sweetest smile on his face. Bill's heart melted and he kissed his child lightly on the forehead. After glaring one last time at the crumpled mess that was Anton Blair, Bill nodded to Joe Taggart and walked away._

_Joe quietly chuckled, and then said to the vanquished troublemaker who was holding his bloody nose and mouth between his hands:_

"_Don't mess with Bill when his wife and kid are concerned. Savvy?"_

_(End flashback)_

"Mary and you were my whole world," continued Bootstrap Bill. "But I couldn't shake those nagging feelings of failure from my mind. I should have accepted my lot in life like everybody else but every time I looked at a tradesman or even a quartermaster, I couldn't help but feel jealous of him: those men were neither better nor smarter than me, so why couldn't I succeed into giving you and your mother a better life? I would have given anything in the world to see you both living in a warm and comfortable house."

"This situation lasted for a few years. My feelings of failure worsened when I stayed at home, I was so ashamed of myself every time I saw our living conditions. That's why I kept on working, taking jobs after jobs, even though I was sad not being around to watch you grow up from an infant to a toddler. Once, when you were almost three years old, I came back from a ten-month-long trip and you didn't recognize me. Mary and I were in bed, enjoying ourselves in a thorough "Welcome home" moment and you came out of your room after your afternoon nap: you climbed on our bed to kick me real hard in the shins, thinking I was attacking your Mama!"

Will burst out laughing. "Oh God! Please tell me this isn't true!"

"God's breath, Will, it is true! You were defending your mother bravely, my three-year-old knight in shining armor. It took some time for Mary to calm you down but after she told you who I was, you gave me the wettest kiss on the cheek I've ever received in my life!"

Will laughed even harder; rivulets of tears were running down on his face and he found himself sitting on the Great Cabin's floor, his back smacking against the couch every time his lungs were trying to draw some air inside them: the too-serious young Turner was finally enjoying himself, laughing his head off while listening to his father's life story and it was simply wonderful! Bill's heart was warming like the Carribean sun and the former pirate was surprised to find himself smiling from ear to ear.

After a long time, Will calmed down and whipped his tears with his shirt's sleeve. Hiccups were shaking his body from head to toes but he managed to say: "I-I am sorry, Pap-a! I hope I d-didn't hurt y-our leg."

"Will, my love, you cannot start to imagine how proud I was of you. Have you ever seen a child, barely out of his swaddling clothes, defending his mother against an opponent who is five times taller than him? Believe me, it isn't a common feat among toddlers – and it was worth a bruise on my leg and being interrupted in an intimate moment with your mother. Only a dashing, loyal little boy could have done this. I knew you'd be my salvation from the day you were born, but it was during this incident that I've truly realized how exceptional you are."

Will's eyes locked on his father's and Bill marveled at the sight of his son's handsome face, his dark eyes still shining from tears of laughter, a smile spread on his lips. _"He is beautiful,"_ thought the former doomed sailor. _"Simply beautiful, and God knows how much I love him. Will, Little One of my heart, I swear you will be happy for the rest of your life. No one will ever do any harm to you, not with ol' Bootstrap Bill Turner standing by your side and protecting you until I draw my last breath."_

Lost in his thoughts, Bill almost didn't catch Will's soft-spoken question: "And then, Papa, what happened next?"

TBC…


	5. Little One, my Little One

**Chapter ****5: Little One, my Little One**

**Disclaimer:** same as chapter 1

**Author's notes:**

- Happy New Year 2008, everyone! May all your dreams and wishes become true!

- I am no M.D. and the details about the chicken pox and the Cinchona shrub come from Wikipedia, the free on-line encyclopedia ;-)

-----------------------------

Bootstrap Bill sighed heavily after Will had asked that question: the worst part of his confession was ahead of him. Until now, he hadn't minded telling the story of his life, especially the parts where he had met his adored Mary and the birth of their beautiful son; but after this short period of joy, darkness and pain had engulfed Bill Turner and for such a long time, he had honestly thought he would never be happy again, that he was doomed to drag his misery on Earth until death would finally come and free him.

Sensing his father's uneasiness, Will got on his feet and walked toward a small table, where a pot filled with warm water and metallic mugs were waiting, displayed on a wooden tray. Davy Jones used to have a complete tea set made of precious china and rimmed with gold but Will had thrown it to the sea, along with the other elaborated items that heartless hypocrite had brought with him while he was in command of the _Flying Dutchman_.

Will poured some warm water in the two cups and the nice, fragrant smell of tea quickly filled the Great Cabin. Soon, he came back to his father and held out a steaming mug at him.

"Tea, Sir?" asked Will with a short bow and a smile. "Be careful, it's hot."

"Thank you, my love" answered Bootstrap Bill, eagerly taking the mug and taking a long gulp from it, never minding the burning feeling on his taste buds. It had been years since he had last drunk tea: during his long years of piracy and then slavery, he had exclusively used rum to drench his thirst or to loose himself into oblivion. He remembered how Mary used to make a lovely tea from scraps of herbs, and how he enjoyed drinking it in front of their fireplace while watching little Will playing with his wooden toys on the threadbare carpet… but now wasn't the time to loose himself in memories of his long-lost family life.

Bill drained the mug and put it down on the floor. He grabbed his son's hand once more, as it seemed he was drawing the courage to talk about his past from this small physical contact with his son.

"You may not remember it, Will, but when you were five years old you had a nasty bout of chicken pox."

"I don't exactly have memories of that illness," answered Will. "Mama told me about it years later, but the details remain very blurry to me."

"No wonder here, you were very young and… God, you were so sick. Chicken pox is usually more troublesome than harmful for children, even if precautions had to be made to avoid contagion, but this time the disease was terrible… In fact, it was deadly. For weeks, children of Glasgow had suffered from high fevers, pneumonias, some of them even ended up with irreparable damages to their brains – and more than once, I saw carts loaded with small coffins going down the streets, followed by grieving parents while sorrowful neighbors threw wild flowers under the horses' hooves, after another urchin had lost his battle against the disease. This kind of chicken pox was very dangerous and in spite of our precautions, you caught it too…"

_(Flashback)_

_Bill Turner walked down the muddy streets of Glasgow in long strides; his back was rigid from tension, his blue eyes were shining in barely suppressed anger and his face looked like it had been carved in stone. For an onlooker, the tall man could pass for a dangerous felon fleeing from justice, but that couldn't be farther to the truth: Bill was a man on a mission. _

_He had left his home, wowing he wouldn't come back until his mission was fulfilled, and no one will stand on his way!_

_H__is cherished son Will was sick from the disease that was currently plaguing Glasgow's children. Numerous little victims had already filled the graveyard and the paupers' grave, and the authorities weren't doing much to stop the epidemic. As long as the society's privileged remained untouched, why the town authorities should be concerned by this disease, even if it was killing dozens of lower-class children? Even the complains of manufacturers, arguing they were loosing good business with the death of their young slaves, fell on deaf ears: there would always be hungry families ready to sell their children for a few coins. Some rich cynics would even say that this illness was a godsend to "clean" the city of those annoying, filthy, street-haunting brats who dared to bother the good citizens for pennies!_

_Bill Turner gritted his teeth in rage and kicked at a loose stone. The rock bounced against a fancy coach horse's foreleg and the animal whinnied loudly, as if it had been skinned alive by the projectile. The coachman protested and raised his arm to hit Bill with his whip, but one cold glare from the tall sailor made him stay his hand in a very quick and efficient way. _

_Bill couldn't __even start to be bothered by a stupid animal and its equally stupid master. Nothing mattered for the big man: his William, his Little One had been sick from the chicken pox for a week, and now he was in mortal danger! _

_At the beginning, it hadn't been too bad: Will had fought the__ illness with all his might by preventing himself from scratching at the lesions; he had even refused to cry or to complain to not aggravate his parents' worry, showing once more an amazing amount of courage that had astonished his father. Mary had given Will daily oatmeal baths which had helped a lot to soothe the sores, bringing great amounts of relief to the little boy. For a moment, Bill had really thought that his son could overcome the chicken pox with the minimum of discomfort._

_But two days ago, a high fever had plagued Will, gravely endangering his young life. The boy had been bedridden ever since, barely able to move or to talk. His mother had to coax him into drinking a very light chicken broth to keep his strength. Nightmares had haunted Will during the first night, making him cry out in fear about a tentacle-bearded monstrous man who wanted to hurt him. Soon afterwards the fever had increased; the child had lost consciousness, and his parents were frantic with worry._

_Bill__ had felt like loosing his mind at the sight of his beloved Mary in tears, cradling their spot-covered insensate little boy in her arms: how could the world be cruel enough to torn an __**angel**__ away from his loving parents? How could a damned disease take the life of Will, the most wonderful son of the world?_

_And, worse of it all, t__he nagging thought had came back in Bill's mind with a vengeance; but instead of mocking him for his inability to earn enough money to provide for his family, this time it would whisper that Will was to pay the price for his father's incompetence. Each time Bill had watched a child's coffin being carried in the streets in a cart, it had felt like an omen warning him: __**"NEXT TIME, IT WILL BE YOUR SON!"**_

_To imagine __Will, a Little One, **his** Little One, lying in a makeshift coffin and heading for the graveyard… No, that was an unbearable thought and Bill had been resolute to save his son's life at all costs. And yet, how a simple sailor could fight a disease?_

_But__ the day before, a tiny light of hope had shone for Bill after he had overheard a conversation between a servant and a shopkeeper: the girl was telling the man about her wealthy mistress who had asked a famous physician for a fever-reducing medicine made from the bark of a South American shrub named Cinchona, in case her spoiled children would ever catch the "disease from those slum brats". The servant had even named the physician, Dr. Talbot, and then she had giggled while relating about the face her avaricious mistress had made after learning the remedy's costs: £10!_

_Ten pounds! For__ Bill, it was a sum as colossal as King Richard the Lionheart's ransom. But to save his Little One's life, he'd sell his soul to the Devil on the spot!_

_The big man__ had used quicker ways to earn money, though: simply by selling the very few items of valor he had in his possession. His Spanish leather tobacco pouch and his ebony-carved pipe had been exchanged for a few coins to a long-time sailor friend of his; his brand-new shaving kit to the local barber; his Sunday boots and the warm dark grey sweater, lovingly knitted by Mary, to a second-hand clothes dealer. Along with the remnants of his latest pay, Bill had a total amount of £8.42 in his pockets and he was on his way to earn the £1.58 needed to accomplish his mission._

_Because, as soon as he'd get the £10, Bill would run to Dr. Talbot's house and ask for the Cinchona remedy!_

_But only one way remained at hand to gain the missing £1.58: Bill knew it, and he was also aware that it would get him a very hard and tedious job for the next six months, but time was running out. If Will didn't get this fever-reducing concoction soon, he would die and his father would damn himself to the nine circles of Hell for all eternity._

_Resolutely, Bill walked down the street, heading right to the harbor…_

_(End flashback)_

"What did you do, Papa?"

"The only thing I could do, my love: I signed the roster of a merchant ship leaving for the Caribbean within the month, and asked for a £2 advance on my wages. As soon as the money was in my pocket, I rushed to Dr. Talbot's cozy two-stored house, scared the living daylights out of the butler and the maids, kicked open the doctor office's door before slamming my hard-won money on his desk to ask for the Cinchona remedy."

"No one tried to stop you? I know by experience how some wealthy physicians can react when plebeians show up at their doors and ask for help. And if you had stormed into that doctor's home…"

"No one would have dared, Will: in the old days, with my size and my determination to protect Mary and you, nobody or nothing could have stopped me, neither a whole battalion of Royal Marines nor the worst crew of bloodthirsty pirates."

The former doomed sailor hung his head in shame, wrongly thinking his paternal loyalty had vanished after he had fallen into Jones' clutches, but Will smiled and squeezed Bill's shoulder. He was touched beyond words after hearing how his father had sold his meager possessions before "calmly" convincing Dr. Talbot to hand out a remedy made with rare ingredients – making a disturbance, and thus risking arrest and imprisonment since Bill's forceful intrusion within the rich doctor's house must have created quite a commotion among the servants… and all this to save his Little One's life.

Will gently brushed his father's face, just before saying: "You haven't changed a bit since the old days, my big-hearted Papa."

Surprised, Bill looked up to see chocolate-colored eyes filled with love (_"Good God above, my Mary's eyes!"_) and looking directly at him. Feeling embarrassed and pleased at the same time, the ex-pirate shook his head and stuttered:

"I-It's nice of you to say this, Will, but…"

"But nothing," interrupted the young Turner. "You are the most wonderful father in the world, and my dearest wish is that someday, you'll believe my words."

An emotional mist gathered inside Bill Turner's eyes but somehow, he managed to keep the tears at bay.

"I trust you, Will," managed to say the older man while his throat was tightening under the pressure of emotion. "I trust you more than I can say!"

"Aye, Papa, but you don't trust yourself, do you?" calmly replied Will.

Bill sighed: once again, his too-clever son had seen right through him. How could this youngster know him so well, after years of separation and silence? Will had truly inherited his brains from his mother, no doubt here.

The elder Turner kept silence for a long moment, absently stroking his William's hand; finally, he answered in a quiet tone:

"It may sound silly, but I'd just like a chance to prove myself, son of mine."

Will thought that his father had already proven his love a hundredfold since their shock encounter on that stormy night, after the young man had climbed aboard the _Flying Dutchman_ to find the Dead Man Chest's key, but he was also aware that Bootstrap Bill was still inconsolable for the nearly-fatal wound Will had suffered at Davy Jones' hands. The young Turner knew that his guilt-ridden father still needed time to forgive himself, even if Bill couldn't have done anything at the time to stop the abhorred Captain since his own mind had been nearly crushed by the _Dutchman_'s devilish oath.

William Turner the Second sensed it would be better to let the matter drop for the moment, so he asked: "You had to sign up for another sailing job to earn enough money and buy the remedy?"

The question shook Bill out of his reverie, and he gave Will a grateful smile before answering:

"That's right, my love. It had been worth it since the Cinchona did wonder to help you: the next morning your fever had broken, and the day after you regained consciousness. You made a miraculous recovery, and it was all that mattered to me. Mary called me her hero for finding that cure! I'll never forget her grateful kiss, or the smile you gave us after you had woken up. But…"

The elder Turner's cerulean blue eyes hardened like sapphire stones at the memory of that peculiar merchant sailing job… It had been the beginning of his longest ordeal, the one that had separated him from his wife and his son for years.

"But?" prompted Will.

"The ship I enlisted on was _The Valiant_, commanded by Captain Edward Burton. It was leaving for Port Royal to retrieve a freight of rum, spices and sugar, a six-month trip; I've been on longer jobs and I had already traveled to the Caribbean isles so apparently, it wouldn't be a hard job but… Will, you have to know this: only desperate sailors, or men at odds with the law, would accept to serve on _The Valiant_ because life was very hard aboard."

"Captain Burton was nicknamed "The Nasty Little Brute" because he was a high believer in discipline and in the use of the cat-o'-nine-tails to obtain it. Horror stories ran about him, how he heavily punished crewmembers for the merest trifle: a discarded rope, a missed piece of dirt on the deck, or even a sneeze during Sunday's sermon, and Burton would sentence the "culprit" to a hundred lashes. He was a cold-hearted bastard and he didn't care about the sailors who had died under the whip. He wanted his ship to be spotless – and woe to the poor soul who hadn't done his job to perfection! The very few men who tried to rebel against those mistreatments had been immediately shot by Burton himself, and the cadavers were thrown to the sea without even receiving the last rituals. It was rumored the Captain kept a small loaded pistol on him, day and night, out of fear of his own crew."

"I knew all this before enlisting on _The_ _Valiant_, but I didn't care about the living conditions of that ship. I was resolute to earn the money to get the cure for you – and if it meant an awful six-month job under the command of the worst Captain of all Glasgow, so be it. A small price to pay, really! Besides, I was resolute to serve under the mast like I've always done it, by doing my work and keeping my mouth shut. But two things happened, and I really didn't foresee them. The first one was that troublemaker Anton Blair had signed _The Valiant_'s roster as well, since no decent Captain would have accepted him aboard of his ship…"

The older man's voice broke and then he extended his arms to his son. Understanding the older man's inner torment, Will hugged his father with all his affection, wrapping his arms around his father's broad shoulders. Bill's embrace tightened as if he never wanted to let go of his child, in this life or the other, then he turned slightly his head to kiss the youngster's temple in a feather-like brush of his lips.

After a long moment, Bill let go of his son and Will could see tears running down the elder Turner's face.

"The second one was the presence of a cabin boy aboard _The Valiant_, a lad who hadn't even reached his twelfth birthday. He was an orphan, raised by a niggardly uncle who had wanted to get rid of him as soon as possible, that's how he got enlisted on the ship. The boy was dark-haired, full of life and eager to learn; he looked just like you, just a few years older! So for the first time of my life, I got out of my usual reserve to take him under my protection…"

The memory ended with a sob: "His name was Willie. Oh, God! His name was Willie."

TBC…


	6. Seraphim Falls

**Chapter ****6: Seraphim Falls**

**Disclaimer:** same as chapter 1

**Author's notes:**

- I've had a hard time writing this chapter…. I apologize in advance to my readers if it isn't good!

- At the beginning of the COTBP movie (shortly before young Will Turner is rescued by HMS _Dauntless_), the ship sunk by _The Black Pearl_ isn't named so I've called it _The Invincible_. Ironic, isn't it? ;-)

-----------------------------

The Great Cabin's candles were slowly extinguishing; their wax had melted into heavy, sticky droplets, creating impromptu stalactites hanging from the metallic branches of the candelabras. Through the stern's glass-paneled windows, the sky appeared as dark as India ink. The _Flying Dutchman_ was following its course, tranquilly sailing on a calm glassy sea to accomplish its mission, a far cry from the former dreaded ghost ship which had terrified sailors for years.

Will hadn't realized how much time had passed since they had begun talking, and it would probably last all night. He was aware their conversation was beginning to take its toll on his father; but Bill's wouldn't want to stop until he had finished his "confession", so Will knew it would be a waste of time to ask the older man if he were too tired to continue.

Bootstrap Bill swallowed hard before grabbing his son's hand as if it were a lifeline:

"That boy, Willie, it was his first job on a ship. As soon as I saw him aboard _The Valiant_, I knew I couldn't remain in the shadows and keep my mouth shut, the way I usually did during my sailing jobs. I _had_ to take Willie under my wing to show him the ropes but mostly, to protect him from any mistreatment. He was so young and inexperienced; he would have been the perfect prey for an unscrupulous shipmate who would have taken advantage of him to make his life a living Hell. I saw that happening too often, Will, and like I've already said, only my silence and my size saved me from that fate during my sailor's apprenticeship. In my life, no one has ever bothered to step up and protect me… except for you, of course" added the elder Turner, earning a luminous smile from his look-alike son.

"Officially, Willie was under the dough-boy's tutelage but Bob Parker was a grumpy man who complained all the time about his miserable fate, so he was too happy another sailor took charge of the boy to get rid of that burden. Soon, Willie and I became inseparable. I taught the youngster everything I knew about sailing and he was very clever, never had to be told twice what to do. The shipmates soon nicknamed Willie "Bill's boy", and none of them dared to raise his hand against him. Of course, Anton Blair tried to slander my name all over the ship, but to no avail. For example, at mealtimes he would insinuate I was mentoring Willie in "some other ways" to make a real man of him, but none of the other shipmates ever listened to his dirty gossips, so it didn't matter..."

"That was monstrous!" interrupted Will, outraged at the idea that someone would ever think to make such accusations against his beloved father. "Blair was a dirty slug!"

Bill had a small smile, and then he squeezed Will's hand even tighter, almost breaking the young Turner's fingers in the process. His voice started to quiver and he whispered: "I shouldn't have done it, Will. I shouldn't have protected Willie."

"But… why?" asked the young Turner, astonished by his father's sudden expression of regret.

"You don't understand, Will: my protection didn't prevent disaster, just like many other things I've done in my life" said Bill with a bitter tone. "I wrongly thought Captain Burton would ignore the boy. But I hadn't realized the Nasty Little Brute had planned to whip Willie since the beginning of the trip, just to satisfy his degenerate nature. Since the boy's work was impeccable – mostly because of my tutelage – Burton badly resented the fact he couldn't punish the cabin boy. And even he had to find a plausible cause to order the bo'sun to give fifty lashes to a barely twelve-year-old child! Days turned into months. Thanks to the iron discipline Captain Burton had imposed on his ship, we had to watch the horrible display of sailors being whipped for the tiniest mistake. Sometimes those punishments were carried on twice a week and the Nasty Little Brute watched that violence with glee. Did I ever wish I could wipe that smirk off his face with a good punch!"

Bill's face suddenly reddened in embarrassment: "According to the crew's rumor mill, the Captain masturbated every time a whipping was executed, because witnessing torture was the only way for Burton to find… release! I couldn't believe those gossips at first; but Bob Parker told me he had seen with his own eyes Captain Burton pleasuring himself minutes after poor McLeod had been beaten within an inch of his life for a misplaced rope. Grumpy as he was, the dough-boy wasn't the kind of man to spread rumors just for the fun of it. You can easily imagine the gloomy mood aboard. The men were scared of their own shadows, and they avoided meeting Captain Burton any time they could. Even Anton Blair avoided his usual complaining charade, because he damn well knew it could mean the whip for him as well! In any other ship, the sailors would have mutinied against its Captain after a week of such mistreatment, but Burton was a cautious one: he always used the Ship's Rules to justify his actions, and the men were too desperate or too scared of the Captain. And his First Mate, Jacobson, didn't have the backbone to dare contradict him."

Will nodded, remembering learning about the Ship's Rules during his time as a cabin boy aboard _The Invincible_: first and foremost, the Captain was sole master on board after God. The Captain's _**words**_ were the crewmembers' _**law**_, and any man rebelling against authority would face the brig at best or the noose at worst.

"But in spite of this hellish commander," continued Bootstrap Bill, "the trip wasn't too hard for me because of Willie's presence in my life. We were heading for Port Royal and, in a way, I was happy to return to the Caribbean. I told Willie all about the marvels of those islands and he was pretty impatient to arrive! He couldn't wait to see the dolphins, the corral reefs, the sandy-white beach…. Willie didn't have a happy childhood with that avaricious uncle of his, and the very idea of swimming in turquoise waters was enough to make him smile. He didn't ask for much, that kind-hearted lad who had managed to keep his innocence during the whole trip!"

Will squeezed the big man's shoulder, worried as the elder Turner laughed in a very bitter and humorless way.

"Gosh, to think that, for a moment, I've had that impossible dream of returning to Glasgow and ask Mary if we could adopt Willie! Talk about thinking stupid things!"

"Why not, Papa?" asked Will, his eyes bright in the Great Cabin's growing darkness. "I've loved to have another boy in our home; I've always wanted a big brother!"

"Will, my love, it wasn't a reasonable idea. We barely had enough money for three, so how in the world could we have afforded another child living under our roof?"

"We would have managed, Papa," answered the young Turner at once. "And Willie sounded like he would have been worth a little sacrifice."

Bootstrap Bill looked startled after hearing this declaration, and then he gently stroked his William's face with two fingers.

"God, Will, you may look like me but you truly have your mother's brains and heart! That's the kind of thing she would have said, the dear girl. She wouldn't have hesitated to take Willie in and raise him as a child of our own."

The two men exchanged a smile at the souvenir of Mary Turner enchanting their memories once again. But too soon, Bill's sky-blue eyes turned stormy-gray and William Turner Jr. felt a shiver crawling up his spine. Whatever had happened to the young Willie, it mustn't have been good to cause such distress to his good-natured father.

"We were one day short of reaching Port Royal; the sea became wild and Captain Burton was even more foul-tempered than ever. Punishments had been doubled, and the men counted the hours before we arrived to Jamaica and they would be freed of the Nasty Little Brute. I kept a very close watch on Willie: he had trouble finding his sea legs at times and I was worried he may drop something, thus giving Burton the occasion to order a whipping on the poor lad."

"But in spite of my watchfulness, the unimaginable happened. I was swabbing the deck with five other men, and then I saw Willie coming out of the quarterdeck; he had finished cleaning the Great Cabin and he was holding the Captain's chamber pot to pour its contents to the sea. The Nasty Little Brute was watching us like a slave driver, expecting the men to do a mistake so he'd enjoy a last torture session before our arrival. Because of the rolling, Willie slipped and… some of the piss he was carrying splashed on Burton's boots. It wasn't much, really, nothing a quick moping could have repaired, but a few shipmates quietly chuckled at the sight of this incident. The Captain was livid of rage: for him, the boy's tiny blunder was nothing more than a deliberate action to ridicule him in front of the crew. Willie apologized at once, but the Nasty Little Brute wouldn't listen to him. He grabbed the urchin by the wrist and called out for the bo'sun to order a whipping. Willie got frightened and he started struggling to free himself from the Captain's grip!"

"I dropped my mop and begged Burton to spare the boy; my comrades whispered to me to go back to work but I didn't listen. I tried to explain Willie wouldn't have done anything to make a mockery of the Captain's authority, that the whole thing was an accident; but Burton got infuriated even more, by both my intervention and the boy's panic and… Oh, God! He slapped the lad across the face so hard that… Willie's neck broke like a rabbit's under the violence of the blow. Poor little mite! His body crumpled on the deck's planks and he just lay there, unmoving, like a rag doll."

"I couldn't believe it, Will. I just couldn't believe my own eyes! Willie was dead, his spark of life… snuffed out by a blow from the Nasty Little Brute. That adorable boy, with a bright future ahead of him, got killed just in front of us. And it had happened so suddenly! It was awful… so _**wrong**_! It was more than plain _**wrong**_, it was _**unfair**_! A little boy had died at the hands of a monster and a whole crowd of adults was staying rooted to the spot, too stupefied to react. I screamed Willie's name and I gathered his body in my arms. I called for help even though nobody aboard _The Valiant_ could have done anything for him. I pleaded and begged the boy to not die while cradling him, even though I knew in my gut that it was too late. Willie's eyes were glassy, his body was limp and his little soul was gone. And then, the pain… a tidal wave of it engulfed me. The pain from my father's death, the permanent struggles for money, the illness which had almost cost you your life, and now eye witnessing the murder of a boy I've loved like my own nephew, all this got mixed in my brains and I've started crying and yelling like a madman. I had failed to protect him, just like I had failed to provide you and your mother a good home, and that feeling just overwhelmed me."

"It took four men to pry me off Willie's corpse and restrain me. Burton seemed crossed that Willie had dared to die before receiving his whipping, so he ordered the First Mate to throw the boy's body to the sea at once. Jacobson mentioned the last rites but the Captain wouldn't have any of it: Willie was just garbage to him, and nothing more. Jacobson designed two sailors – Anton Blair, who was openly sneering at my grief, and Robert Baker – to throw Willie overboard. I was in such a maelstrom of emotions I didn't even realize the growling sounds coming from my throat. Burton seemed annoyed by my display of sorrow, thence he ordered I should be whipped instead of the cabin boy. After all, I had neglected my cleaning duties to interfere, hadn't I? Captain Burton had the right to exercise his discipline!"

"I couldn't detach my eyes from Willie," chocked the elder Turner. "Blair and Baker carried his body towards the rail and I went berserk, Will. Because my eyes played a trick on me and I wasn't seeing Willie's corpse, but _**yours**_! I thought for sure Blair and Baker were getting ready to commit **you** to the sea! Oh Will, that hallucination was the last straw. I broke out of my comrades' hold like a wild animal, hitting everyone and everything on sight. Burton reached out for the pistol hidden beneath his vest and I smashed my fist on his jaw and God, did it felt _good_, and then I looked up just in time to see Blair and Baker throwing Willie over the helm's rail. I punched Blair right in the face and I felt his remaining front teeth breaking, pushed Baker out of my way as if he weighed nothing and, in the same movement, I jumped off the ship screaming your name."

Will had blanched after hearing about the violent death of his long-lost namesake. His chivalrous nature was revolted at the tale of such cruelty towards a young boy and he was also sorrowful that his father had suffered so much from it. When he saw Bill wiping his eyes dry with his shirt's sleeve, he grabbed his father's hand and held it between his owns like the most precious thing in the world.

"The… The shock of falling into the ocean hadn't been enough to shake me out of my madness" said Bootstrap Bill. "In spite of the boisterous sea, I swam with all my strength to reach the foam created after Willie's body had hit the water and then I dove to retrieve him, because I was still persuaded that you had been the victim of Burton's violence. The water was dark and tumultuous but I didn't care, I've always been a good swimmer! All that mattered to me was to find Willie – even if it was a fool's errand: the sea never brings back the corpses. I dove several times; on my last attempt, I finally saw the boy… just in time to watch him sinking in the depths of the ocean. His eyes were still wide open, he was surrounded by chaplets of bubbles and his arms were deployed wing-like… God's wounds, he was the very image of a drowning seraph."

Will briefly wondered if Willie's soul had ever been ferried to the Other World aboard the _Flying Dutchman_, but he quickly dismissed that idea: Davy Jones wasn't the kind of man to be moved by the terrible fate of a young boy killed by a sadistic commander.

"I tried to swim underwater but Willie's body was already out of reach, disappearing into the darkness. I ran out of air so I was forced to reach the surface. While I gasped for air, realization suddenly hit me: I had rebelled against a direct order from my commanding officer, punched Captain Burton and some of my shipmates just before jumping from a ship to retrieve a body committed to the sea. I had perpetrated a blatant act of mutiny out of affection for Willie, thus jeopardizing my life."

"My greatest flaw is I never foresee the consequences of my actions, Will, and this time it was really bad: either I climbed back to _The Valiant_ to face Burton's revenge and the noose, either I remained in the water until it would be my turn to drown. What a mess I've had done by trying to protect Willie! How could anyone make such an enormous mistake, I'll never know!"

"So you blame yourself for being a good teacher and a caring man?" asked Will incredulously, interrupting his father's self-loathing tirade. "You **actually** think you acted wrongly by getting involved and placing yourself between an evil Captain and his young victim?"

Will caught his father's chin between his fingers and raised it, forcing Bill to look at him. Chocolate-brown eyes looked down into sky-blue orbits, and the Captain of the _Flying Dutchman_ told his First Mate:

"Papa, Willie died because of his Captain's brutish nature. Burton was a coward who made reprisals on his crew for his own impotence. He's the one responsible for this child's death. There was absolutely nothing wrong with your actions; if anything, they prove once again that you are a good and loyal man, the kind of person that stands high among a crowd!"

The elder Turner almost cried at his son's words. _Oh, William… I don't deserve your praise, but I will do everything in my power to earn it!_"

The two men remained silent of a long moment; while Bootstrap Bill was lost in the memories of a murdered young boy, Will was thinking about two celestial beings which had fallen from _The Valiant_ on that fateful day: a seraph… and a big-hearted guardian angel.

Finally, Will's voice rose again: "How did you manage to escape from Burton?"

"By the only way at hand, Will: I swam to safety. We were very close to the Caribbean and we would have reached Hispaniola Island within a few hours. So I swam away from _The Valiant_ to head west, but not before I cursed Burton, Jacobson and my former shipmates, damning them to all eternity for Willie's death, I was so full of rage! Luckily the sea was getting wilder; otherwise, Burton would have ordered a longboat to be prepared, even if his crewmembers were probably convinced I had gone crazy and they wouldn't have been too enthusiastic at the idea of getting me out of the water. Besides, the weather was turning into a tempest. The waves became huge, and in a matter of minutes I lost all sights of _The Valiant_. I knew I was in mortal danger and it gave me the strength of ten to swim even harder! I don't know how long I stayed in the drink, probably hours. The sky darkened and it was getting difficult for me to orient my course towards the sunset. And there wasn't a piece of wood or a plank to use as a buoy. My rage was slowly replaced by tiredness, and I don't remember how many times the waves swallowed me."

"I was a good candidate for the Sea of Lost Souls and then… land ho! I saw the dark silhouette of an island outlined against the gray evening sky. I couldn't believe it; I had succeeded in reaching Hispaniola by swimming! I shouted out of joy, but unfortunately my ordeal wasn't over: the waves were crashing due to the high tide, and they plunged me back under the water. I was too tired to reach the surface and I remember rolling all over myself like an empty barrel. I was revolted at the idea of drowning just before reaching safety but the more I struggled, the more I was disoriented. Once again, I ran out of air and my lungs burned like they were ready to explode. In my desperation, I hadn't noticed that another wave had caught me and I landed violently on the beach. I barely had the time to comprehend what had happened before the waves broke down on the beach and submerged me again; the undertow dragged me back to the drink and I was too exhausted to fight. I really thought this was the end; that I was to be killed by the tempest but… suddenly, something grabbed my wrist and pulled me out of the water."

"I must have lost consciousness for a minute or so because the next thing I know, I was leaning against the trunk of a coconut tree nearby the beach, soaked to the bone and coughing out salty water while my lungs were painfully functioning again. Then a movement caught my eye and I saw the most crazy-looking young male face hovering over me: huge dark eyes rimmed with kohl, a few strands of a mustache and goatee, and a mop of braided hair adorned with beads escaping from a tattered three-cornered hat. The fellow looked barely eighteen years old and yet I could smell a strong stench of rum escaping from his mouth. In spite of the howling wind, I perfectly heard that young man saying:

"Well, well, well, what kind of creature did I just fish out of the water? Is it a merman? Or maybe it's Triton, the messenger of the deep? No, this is Poseidon himself, the sea god!"

TBC…


	7. But you've heard about me!

**Chapter ****7: But you've heard about me!**

**Disclaimer:** same as chapter 1

**Author's notes:**

- To Smithy: how did you guess? ;o)

- This chapter has a reference to one of my stories, _"Sealed with a kiss"_.

- Jack's quotes are from the play _"The Cid"_, act second, scene two. It was written in 1637 by French author Pierre Corneille (1606 – 1684).

-----------------------------

Will's eyes opened wide in shock after he'd realized exactly who this mysterious young man was, the one who had saved his drowning father in the nick of time, years ago.

"Jack? Papa, you met Jack on that beach after you've swam to your freedom?"

"He looks just like his description, doesn't he?" asked Bill, winking at his son.

The young Captain of the _Flying Dutchman_ had a hard time to contain his laughter: the wild-eyed, scruffy-dressed, loopy-walking, crazy-combed and silver-talking Captain Jack Sparrow… Yes, that was an accurate painting of the most eccentric pirate of the Seven Seas. Jack and his "shabby-dandy" looks… he was definitively one of a kind!

"Aye, that's how I met Jack, son of mine. And I daresay it was an unforgettable encounter! Even miserable as I was, each and every word he said during our first meeting is engraved in my memory…"

_(Flashback)_

"_P__raise to Poseidon, the sea god!" proclaimed the youngster while gesticulating madly in front of the shipwrecked man, who was slowly regaining his wits. "I bow at yer feet, oh maritime grandeur who had deigned to answer my prayers, and I beg ye for calm winds and a tranquil sea beneath the hull of my much-loved ship. The miserable little sardine that I am would have sacrificed rum at your altar, ye most-powerful and fearsome oceanic deity, but alas and to my greatest shame I have to confess I've drank it all already. So if I may have a reprieve in my offertory it will be much appreciated, oh you undeniable ruler of the Seven Seas, and I promise to pay it as soon as…"_

"_Lad… lad!" interrupted Bill Turner, getting dizzy by the young man's antics and torrent of words._

"_Yes__, magnificent commander of the Deep Blue? How may I show my devotion to ye? Your word is my law!"_

"_Listen, laddie" croaked the former merchant sailor, his voice raw from swallowing salted water too many times. "I-I don't know who Poseidon is, a-a-and I am no god!"_

"_No?" answered the young man, his jet-black eyes unbelievably getting even bigger. "You are not an oceanic god? Then, you must be a man, only a soaked-to-the-bone man, and a down-his-luck man by the looks of it?"_

"_Aye…" mumbled Bill, too tired to argue. "I'm just a sailor."_

"_Well, this is your lucky day!" roared the young man to the thundering dark clouds hovering over them. "Because, Just A Sailor, you've just had the privilege to meet me, the notorious, world-famous, all-around incredible Captain Jack Sparrow!"_

_The blabbering youngster __took a majestic pose as if he was modeling for the painting of a proud commodore on his deck, looking at a raging sea fight in where his sailors were smashing the enemy ships to smithereens. After a moment, hearing not a sound coming from his audience, he turned around to see Bill Turner looking at him with a blank expression on his face._

"_What?" grumbled the __annoyed young man, "Are you going to tell me, Just A Sailor, that you are unaware of Captain Jack Sparrow's exploits? Of his bravery which only equals his intelligence… And not to forget that he's the British Crown's bane, the hatred of the East India Trading Company, the envy of all pirates in the Caribbean islands and, last but not the least, the _bête noire_ of the Navy since a few encounters with him have resulted in massive damage among the Royal Fleet!"_

"_Nay…" said the elder Turner._

_Jack__ looked crestfallen, and then he crouched down to look at the sailor he had just pulled out of the water: his face was as white as the sand, his breathing was labored, his hair and clothes were plastered all over him and he obviously couldn't stand up without help. Heck, the coconut palm trunk he was leaning against was probably the only thing preventing the big man to fall on his face while being seated on the sand! _

_Jack knew the castaway had to be taken to a dry and warm place, otherwise his physical exhaustion and the bone-chilling pouring rain would kill him as surely as the tempest's crushing waves. But his sense of self-glorification couldn't stop him to ask one last time:_

"_But you've _**heard**_ about me?"_

_Bill would have laughed out loud if he had had enough strength within him to do so. The lad __could change from histrionic panache to childish disappointment in a blink of an eye!_

"_Nay… I'm sorry…"_

_Jack sighed, and then he shrugged__ off the matter: "Oh well, since it is obvious you have arrived only recently in the Caribbean, I will forgive your ignorance. You'll be acquainted with the name of Captain Jack Sparrow soon enough: I am the most illustrious pirate captain of this part of the world. By the way, my friend, what are you called?"_

"_Bill Turner."_

"_Bill Turner! __That will be short for William, I imagine. Good, strong name._ _And it is much better than Just A Sailor, anyway. Well, pleased to meet you, William!" said Jack while grabbing Bill's limp right hand and giving it a vigorous shake._

"_You saved my life…" managed to say Bill in spite of the trembling movements of his jaw, due to his chattering teeth._

"_So I did, but worry not, we're not going to choose fine china together!" laughed Jack. "My appearance may be ambiguous to the unaware eye but a lady's man is who I am. A recent argument with a beautiful female creature, due to an innocent misunderstanding, had let me go for a walk on the beach in spite of a little humidity and wait until the said lady will calm down. I spotted you rolling down on the beach and I was wondering whatever possessed you to go for a swim in this weather. You should know better than to take a dip in these tumultuous waters, though: the hammerhead sharks come here to mate at this time of year!"_

"_I-I didn't go for a swim!" protested Bill. "I jumped ship…"_

_The big man suddenly shut his mouth, realizing too late that in his exhaustion he had just confessed his desertion to a stranger, but Jack merely smiled._

"_Fear not, William Turner; have I not told you a minute ago that I am a pirate captain? Besides, I've never seen an honest-to-goodness sailor disembarking from his ship by jumping from it. You don't have to worry, in this island no one will turn you to the authorities or to the Royal Navy… since there is not a uniform in sight; this kind of costume isn't welcomed here!"_

"_Here? Do you mean we are not in Hispaniola?"_

"_That's right, my good man. This is Tortuga, the island for pirates and runaways! Welcome home!"_

_The news hit Bill hard: he had heard of Tortuga of course, since this is__land was the notorious haunt of various people at odds with the law, but he had never made port there since his law-abiding former employers had made a point to avoid these waters at all costs. From what Bill had heard during his sailing years, Tortuga was a place where riots and fires erupted every minute, while permanently-drunk men and women fought each other without any reason; it was even say that in this island, the main attraction was "Dunk the Mayor" in a well! And now Bill was stranded in this dangerous island, penniless and shipwrecked. How was he going to survive?_

"_Aw, why are ye suddenly looking so gloom, my friend?" asked Jack. "Feeling regrets about abandoning your ship, already?"_

"_Nay," whispered Bill. "Besides… I wouldn't go back there, even if I could!"_

"_That's the spirit!" laughed Jack, and Bill noticed the young man had already three silver teeth in his mouth. "You're a man worthy to serve under the command of Captain Jack Sparrow, fer sure!"_

"_Begging your pardon__, but aren't you a bit too young to be a captain?" asked Bill._

"_Ah, but __to quote Pierre Corneille: __**«**_**I am young, it is true; but in souls nobly born, valour does not wait for the number of years**_**»**_._ Damn good writer, that man. I saw his play _"The Cid"_ in Paris, two years ago! But I suppose you've never heard of him, too? Oh, never mind. Come on, my good man, on yer feet now! You've had a rough day and I happen to know the best cure for shipwrecked gloominess: a roaring fire in the chimney and a glass of rum in one of the best rooms of The Faithful Bride!"_

_After a few attempts, the castaway managed to stand up. But __Jack grimaced and he nearly collapsed after the big man leaned his arm across his narrow shoulders for support: Bill weighted almost twice as he did!_

"_I-__I don't have any money" said Bill in a forlorn voice._

"_N__either do I!" replied Jack, "And yet, lack of coin has never stopped me from having a nice dinner over a jug of rum, so why should it bother you?"_

_The former merchant sailor looked at the young pirate, and then he nodded before starting to walk in heavy steps, supported by the helpful Captain Jack Sparrow._

_Why should it bother him, indeed!_

_(End Flashback)_

"Have you ever been to Tortuga?" asked Bill to his son.

"Twice," answered Will with a smile, "It's a place like Jack: unbelievable!"

"And it hasn't changed a bit over the years. It looks just like a fair for inebriated lunatics! No wonders the Royal Navy or the East India Trading Company never bothered to attack the place, their bigwigs are probably too afraid of catching the Tortuga madness, like it was as contagious as the swamp fever."

"Jack took you to the Faithful Bride tavern, then?"

"Aye," said the elder Turner. "At the beginning, I was a bit worried about my soaked and ragged state, but I soon realized that among those crazies I'd look almost normal. They never stop drinking, even under pouring rain and violent winds! Jack had a few words with the tall, burly tavern-keeper – I was too tired to listen to their conversation – but the next thing I know, the man's face turned fiery red and then he smashed a bottle on the head of one of his customers. A fight erupted and the patrons joined the brawl, tossing chairs and breaking rum flagons all over the place while the band was playing a merry tune – another typical night at the Faithful Bride! We climbed up the stairs and Jack led me to a comfy room with stuffed armchairs, a fireplace and a closet full of linen and blankets next to the bed. While I was dripping wet on the room's thick rug, Jack started a fire and the heat felt like Heaven for me! Then Jack left me for a moment and during his absence, I took off my boots, put them to dry in front of the fire and towelled myself the best I could with one of the folded linens."

"When Jack came back, he had a bundle of clothes under his arm while holding a tray loaded with food and rum! He put the lot on the table and told me to eat and change; otherwise I'd catch my death and he didn't go through all the trouble of fishing me out of the sea to watch me being carried off by pneumonia. I barely had the time to thank him that he went out for another errand. I gratefully changed clothes – the ones brought by Jack were actually my size, can you believe it? After wolfing down the food and drink, I started to worry about not being able to pay for Jack's kindness, then I heard a woman raising her voice just outside the door, a slapping sound, and then Jack entered the room looking disgruntled, holding his red-coloured cheek in the palm of his hand."

"And he said he wasn't sure he had deserved this. Am I wrong?" said Will with a smile.

"How did you guess?" asked Bill, but he got his answer looking at his laughing child. Obviously, Captain Jack Sparrow hadn't changed a bit between his meetings with the Turners, father and son!

"On top of "borrowing" some food, dry clothes for me and getting a free comfortable room for the night, Jack had tried to convince one of the tavern's ladies to spend some fun time with us, even if she had the nastiest temper of the Caribbean; but it was one of the rare times where the Sparrow charm had failed. I've renounced to the services of the hired ladies since I've met your mother, but I couldn't help but feel sorry for Jack."

"In spite of the brawling downstairs, I managed to get some sleep. Jack gave me the bed and he spent the night drinking one rum flagon after another, sitting by the fireplace and lost in his thoughts. He woke me up at the first rays of dawn, because the tavern-keeper wanted his room back to nurse his bruises – it turned out we had been staying his bedroom, and Jack had given me the man's brand-new clothes! Jack and I went downstairs to see the place was completely trashed: bodies, broken furniture and bottles were littering the floor, there wasn't a single window pane intact and the door was wide open, consequently some pigs came inside the tavern to eat the last table scraps. But somehow, that resourceful Jack found intact rum bottles and we went to the beach; the tempest had ended so we sat down on the sand to watch the sunrise and while we drank, I told Jack about the circumstances of my desertion."

"And he offered you a place in his crew?" asked Will.

"Actually, my son, Jack didn't have a crew at the time. He had been working for the East India Trading Company for a few years – that's how I learned he was more or less twenty-five years old, and not eighteen as I had supposed. But instead of transporting African slaves to Jamaica, he freed them all and Beckett got blamed for this, since he was Jack's supervisor. In retaliation, Becket branded Jack a pirate and sank his ship, which was called _The Wicked Wench_ at the time. That episode had been the last straw for Jack: he definitively renounced to any attempt at an honest life to fully embrace piracy."

"He needed his ship to gain freedom, that's why Jack struck a bargain with Davy Jones: _The Wicked Wench_ lifted from the bottom of the ocean and its command for 13 years, against a hundred years of servitude aboard the _Flying Dutchman_. Of course," added Bill with bitterness, "Jack didn't tell me about his deal with the devil on the beach; I've learned about it years later, after I got enrolled aboard the _Flying Dutchman._"

"That was a bit crazy, even from him!" said the new Captain of the ghost ship. "How could he ever think he'd escape from his debt with Jones?"

Bootstrap Bill had a sad smile: "Ah, you're right, my love. But Jack always had an enormous trust in his sharp wits, that's both his strength and his weakness. While we were watching the sunrise on the beach, Jack just told me it was after the Beckett incident he had decided to embark on "free enterprise", that's how he called piracy. He rechristened his ship _"The Black Pearl"_, and he was on the verge of recruiting sailors for trips where the main idea was to take everything and give nothing back. Jack kept on quoting this line from that Corneille fellow: **«****When we conquer without danger, our triumph is without glory»**".

"And… that's when you accepted to serve under _The Black Pearl_'s mast, even though you knew it would make you a pirate." said Will.

Bill hung his head in shame, unable to look at his William in the eyes. He could have said his mind had been altered at the time by his shipwreck, his brush from death or even the abuse of rum, but he'd rather go to Davy Jones' Locker than lie to his son. Years ago, on the beach, during his conversation with Jack, the elder Turner hadn't hesitated to become a pirate because he had been disgusted by his life, which had brought him nothing but a constant lack of money and unbearable pain from the unfair deaths of his father and Willie.

"Aye, my son. Do you remember the night you've escaped from the _Flying Dutchman_? When I told you that if I pretended pirating wasn't what I've wanted, it would taste a lie? I can offer no excuses for my behaviour. All I can say is, I got tempted by the pirate's life mostly because of how Jack presented it: he didn't look upon trigger-happy madmen who wanted nothing but fire at ships and slaughter everyone on board… and he still doesn't. Self-serving as he is, Jack has an altruistic streak within him – even if he'd deny it tooth and nail in public – and he's not into violence. He'd rather use his brains to get what he wants, may it be gold, a woman or freedom; for him, piracy was more in the idea to trick the East India Trading Company and plunder its ships, or to gain treasures so frightful by reputation no other pirate captain would ever try to be his competition."

"Even if the idea of stealing goods from greedy companies didn't bother me –I had my own plan in mind, which was earning enough money so I'd be able to bring you and your mother to the Caribbean to live a new life together – I wasn't keen on becoming a murderer, either. That's why I liked the way Jack wanted to live the pirate's life; his philosophy was risky and morally-challenging, but also clever and fun. He didn't want blood-stained evil deeds but fantastic exploits to embellish his legend. Jack firmly believes that pirates can also be good men, and for a long time I believed it too… even if this kind of person is rare."

Bill quieted down, still too embarrassed to raise his eyes. This had been the hardest part of his story, telling how he had willingly chosen piracy over honesty, and he feared the consequences of his confession upon his newly relationship with his son. Will's honesty and courage would put many people to shame, may they be lords or beggars – and his father was constantly amazed by the fact that he, of all people, had sired such a beautiful human being. And yet, Bill wasn't sure the principled younger Turner would understand Bill's far-than-honourable past actions.

With the desperate stoicism of a condemned man waiting for his turn to climb the gallows' stairs, Bootstrap Bill bit his bottom lip and expected an explosion of anger, an expression of disappointment or even worse, a scornful look from his son. But Will simply clasped the elder Turner in his arms. Startled by the gentle embrace, Bill returned the hug tentatively at first; he could hardly believe his child would still love him after learning about his decision to become a pirate. But Will's show of affection was strong and sincere so after a few heartbeats, Bill Turner crushed his cherished son against his broad chest.

"You **are** that rare person, Papa" said Will, "I love you, I forgive you and I love you even more," and his father kissed the top of his head.

A long moment of silence followed, barely interrupted by a tiny noise who sounded like something small bouncing against the Great Cabin's wooden floor: _plink… plink… ka-plink…_

Will didn't have to loosen his embrace to investigate where that sound was coming from: he already knew its cause.

It was his father's tears, escaping from Bill's blue eyes and hitting the floor-planks after they had turned into diamonds.

TBC…


	8. Heart of darkness

**Chapter ****8: Heart of darkness**

**Disclaimer:** still the same as chapter 1

**Author's notes:**

- I apologize for the lack of updates… blame it on that zoo of an office and mid-term exams!

- To Smithy: well, you guessed right! ;-)

- The story **_"The Oak and the Reed"_** Bill mentions is from a poem from French writer Jean de la Fontaine (1621 – 1695).

-----------------------------

Will had no idea how much time had passed since the two men had embraced. From the corner of his eye, he could see the numerous diamonds scattered on the Great Cabin's wooden floor – his father's tears, solidified into diamonds. It was amazing to think that Bill had been granted that miracle while being locked up in the _Flying Dutchman_'s brig, desperate and awaiting death. It had been a flash of magic for the elder Turner while being tormented by Davy Jones, but in a way Will wasn't surprised; his father's love for him was so pure, it could whiten the statue of a Hell-spawned demon. So why couldn't it turn tears into gems?

Silence reigned in the Great Cabin but Bill Turner didn't seem ready to release his son from the hug. His right arm was wrapped around his son's shoulders while his left calloused palm was cradling Will's dark-haired head, giving a welcomed sense of protection and love to the young man who had been starved for his father's affection for years.

"Papa?" asked Will after a long, long while.

"Hmm?"

"Will you let me go?"

"Never," was the growled answer.

Unimaginably, Bootstrap Bill's hold tightened even more, like he wanted to smother his son, almost squeezing the breath out of him. William Turner Jr. would never have believed his father had such strength within him, after years of torture, slavery and despair!

"Papa?" asked Will, this time a bit worried.

"I'm sorry, my love. Did I hurt you?"

"Not at all, it's just… You sounded upset by something."

Bill sighed, and then he very reluctantly released the joy of his life.

"I'm not upset, Will. I was just reminding myself of my oath."

Will nodded, knowing of the pledge his father had sworn to him, a few months ago: Bill had committed himself to protect his son's happiness; a lifelong engagement the elder Turner was firmly resolute to honour at all costs.

"Should I continue, Will?"

"If you are still willing to, Papa; I would like to listen to the rest of your story."

"Oh, I won't tell you all the adventures I've had while being a crewmember of the _Black Pearl_, under Jack's command. I am sure he has already told you all about his fantastic exploits…"

"Yes he did," said Will with a smile. "And his new First Mate, Joshamee Gibbs, told me about Hector Barbossa's mutiny and Jack being marooned on a desert island. Then two of Barbossa's men, Pintel and Ragetti…."

"What?" exclaimed the elder Turner, "These two imbeciles are still around? Oh well, they are so dim-witted, they would disgust a hangman to tighten a noose around their necks!"

Will smiled at the souvenir of the wooden-eyed pirate and his chubby sidekick, constantly bickering between themselves over the most mundane subjects: the clowns of the crew!

"Aye, they are still here. They told me how you sent me the medallion for safekeeping, in retaliation against Barbossa for his _coup de force_."

"That's right, my son. I have to tell you this: during my service aboard the _Black Pearl_, I stuck to my usual attitude, which was to obey orders from the helm and keeping my mouth shut. Even if I had full confidence in Jack and his abilities to lead us to treasures without getting caught by the authorities, I couldn't bring myself to trust my shipmates. Something held me back – perhaps because I had my own private plans, which was to send your mother money and saving my shares of the booty, so I'd have enough coin to convince Mary to come with you to the Caribbean. Or maybe it was a last strand of honesty lying deep within me, I don't know. But I didn't mingle with the rest of the crewmembers or ever mentioned to them the family I had left in England."

"Only Jack knew about you; the day his First Mate, Robert Dickins, got killed during an boarding against a French ship from Nantes transporting slaves, Jack took it hard because Dickins was a very good man who knew how to handle the bunch of mismatched scallywags that composed the crew. So Jack called me to the Great Cabin and we got completely drunk. He offered me the position of First Mate, but I refused."

"Why, Papa?" asked Will, shocked. "You are a great First Mate, a wonderful help! I don't think I would have been able to command the _Flying Dutchman_ without you."

Bill Turner had a sad smile: "That's where you're wrong, Will. You would have been perfectly able to command this ship without me. And do you want to know why? Because you are a **born leader**, Will. You have it in you to give orders and have men obeying without arguments. You don't hesitate to take charge and you have this natural ability to make the right decisions. I don't have this talent, Will – no, please, don't say otherwise," added the older man, seeing his son getting ready to protest. "I am a follower, not a leader. The crewmembers of the _Flying Dutchman_ obey me just out of respect for you, the hero who had freed them from Davy Jones."

"Well, I still think you judge yourself too severely, and that you are a great First Mate!" said Will vehemently. "And one day, you'll see… You'll agree with me."

Bootstrap Bill looked upon his son's handsome face and smiled: how could he deny his angel?

"Well, maybe, son of mine. But anyway, I refused Jack's offer not only out of lack of self-confidence: I also wanted to avoid a position where I would be too easily noticed by the Royal Navy authorities. A First Mate's name is quickly associated to his Captain's and I tried to keep a low profile as a pirate, since I knew the consequences for Mary and you would be severe if word ever got spread in Glasgow that I've had become a pirate. I even accepted that silly nickname of _"Bootstrap Bill"_ to avoid the name _"Turner"_ to be called out loud too frequently and raise unwanted attention in the Caribbean islands."

"By the way, where does that nickname come from?" interrupted Will.

"Oh, well you are aware that piracy doesn't rhyme with solidarity – and once, I saved Jack after he got wounded in a botched attempt to board a Spaniard ship while our men were fleeing. My shipmates thought I had been foolish to risk their safety and the _Black Pearl_'s just to retrieve Jack, so they ironically called me _"Bootstrap Bill"_ from the old saying about pulling yourself up by your own bootstraps."

"But it didn't matter Will," said the elder Turner, "I didn't care much about their opinion of me, I knew that saving Jack was the right thing to do. Besides, like I've already said, I had my own private plans about my family since I had no intention to remain a pirate for the rest of my born days. But when Jack and I got drunk off our heads all night long in memory of Dickins, the rum loosened my tongue and I told Jack about Mary and you. I guess that cunning Jack didn't miss a word I was saying and the information about my son got somehow engraved in that strange-working mind of his. But when I left the Great Cabin, completely wasted, I didn't realize I was rambling out loud about "the child" I've left years ago, and this information fell in hostile ears."

"Anyway, after my refusal, Jack chose Hector Barbossa to be his First Mate, but their association didn't last long. Barbossa must have plotted his mutiny from the first time he ever stepped aboard the _Black Pearl_. I didn't see it coming, Will – I was distrustful of my shipmates, but little did I realized they were avoiding me too. My silence irritated them, and my strong frame could become an asset to Jack if he ever tried to fight against the mutiny. So the crew trapped me in the sleeping quarters and Barbossa pulled a pistol against my head. He gave me a very simple choice to make: either I'd follow him, either my life would come to an abrupt end."

Will took his father hand and squeezed it gently.

"You didn't have any choice, Papa. I am sure Jack understood you had been blackmailed into mutiny."

"I hope so, Will," said Bill, squeezing the youngster's hand in return, "because I'll never forget the look of betrayal in his face when the crew brutally overthrew him and locked him up in the brig. Jack pleaded me with his eyes to do something, anything, to stop the men from forcing him to leave his beloved _Black Pearl_ – the vessel he had sold his soul to the Devil's most hideous worshipper to gain its command! – but I just stood there, playing a passive part in the mutiny. I couldn't even watch when Barbossa marooned Jack on that barren spit of land, under the laughs and the jeers of his former crew. God, how I hated them! They had betrayed both their Captain and the Pirate Code, and it was unbearable to see Barbossa parading on the _Peal_'s deck and making those high-strung speeches about how the time of amateurish pillaging, Sparrow-style was over, and it was up to "real men" to show the rest of the world what true pirating was all about, because _"We are not sparrows, men, we are eagles!"_, to quote that backstabbing traitor!"

"Chance favoured Barbossa at the beginning of his command, because he made us sail to _Isla de Muerta_ and we got our hands on the Chest of Cortez with the 882 Aztec gold pieces loaded inside. Jack had learned about this treasure shortly before he was overthrown, but the curse? Barbossa had dismissed it as a ridiculous superstition; besides, he needed an exploit to secure his authority, and that gold had won him the complete devotion of his new men – except for me. But one week after we had found the treasure, we went to Tortuga for a night of carouse and we found out about the moonlit revelation of the Aztec gods' curse. Screams of horror rang through the whole island: the crew of the _Black Pearl_ had turned into walking skeletons! Dead men roaming down the streets! Even for the usual scoundrels and desperadoes of Tortuga, this sight was enough to make the toughest malefactor faint on the spot. The men ran back to the ship to tell their new Captain what was happening and we found Barbossa at the helm, in his phantom shape, trying desperately to munch on an apple."

"To be truthful, I was as horrified as the rest of the crew when my bare skeleton was revealed! I remained inside the cook's galley for the rest of the night, stupidly thinking the curse would stop if I hid from the moonlight, but I soon realized it was hopeless. Barbossa rummaged through Jack's papers and maps for a day, trying to find a clue about how to lift our doom and put this nasty curse business behind us before going back to good old-fashion pirating. That's when a plan unfolded in my mind..."

"Night fell again and we couldn't move from Tortuga, otherwise our skeletonised condition would appear to the eyes of bystanders, drawing the whole island of Tortuga into an uproar once again and Barbossa wanted to leave quietly. I slipped away from the _Black Pearl_, hidden under my big cloak to avoid any interference from the moon, and went back to the Faithful Bride tavern. There I found an old acquaintance of mine, Julius Driscoll, who gave up merchant sailing to become a pimp in Tortuga. During my time as an honest sailor, I have saved Driscoll's life during a brawl in a Copenhagen tavern – he had been caught cheating while playing cards – so I offered him a deal: he would send a package for England and I would erase the debt he owned me."

Realization dawned on Will and he stared at his father: "The package… Was it the Aztec medallion you had sent me with a letter?"

"Aye, my darling, it was the gold piece I had received as my share of the Aztec treasure. To make it look a little less ominous, Driscoll added a suspension ring to the coin, and a chain so you'd be able to wear it around your neck. From the few letters I've managed to receive from Mary, I've learned you were growing into a fine boy – you were about seven years old at the time – so I instinctively knew you would keep the medallion safe, that you weren't the kind of foolish lad that would gloat over a golden trinket sent by your absent father to his playmates."

"Driscoll often went to Port Royal to provide hired ladies to some of the wealthiest members of the British colony of Jamaica, so he had the opportunity to send the package containing the medallion, a letter instructing you to never depart yourself from it, and some money for your mother via a ship leaving for England. I went back to the _Black Pearl_ before my absence would be noticed; I wrongly thought my great plan would come to fruition: we would sail away and then I would tell the crew we were all doomed to remained walking skeletons forever, and there was no one to blame but Hector Barbossa and his greedy idea of pillaging cursed gold in spite of the warnings, and it would be his turn to get overthrown by his own men and found himself marooned."

"All Hell broke loose after we left Tortuga; our usurping Captain had found a note by Jack's hand, tucked under the mattress of the Great Cabin's couch. Apparently, Jack had taken no chances about the eventuality of a curse and he had written down a possible way to lift it, just in case: simply by placing the 882 gold pieces back into the stone chest – we didn't know about adding drops of our blood, at this time. Barbossa ordered the men to give their shares and they all obeyed but me, since I didn't have the Aztec coin any more. Barbossa went furious and I found myself at the end of his sword: we fought, but he quickly vanquished me – I only had strength while he had adroitness, that's the eternal story of the oak and the reed, to quote Jack! So I called out to my shipmates, telling them the curse was entirely Barbossa's fault. That it was serving us right for betraying Jack and the Pirate Code we had all vowed to uphold. And if we wanted a chance to return human again, we'd better retrieve our former Captain from that deserted island before it would be too late, since he was the only one among us with enough intelligence to find a way out of our hellish doom."

"I really thought it was a clever way to force Barbossa to sail back to that barren island and save Jack. But my plan backfired: I underestimated Barbossa's popularity among the crewmembers. A lot of them approved his ideas of bloodletting piracy and had thought Jack of being "too soft" to be a good leader. Others were too scared of Barbossa, or they simply didn't care who was in charge as long as they get rum and gold. So instead of approving my words, my former shipmates jumped on me all together. After I've received the worst beating of my life from their hands, Barbossa asked me for the gold piece: I refused, and I got pummelled again. Finally, the Captain ordered the men to lock me in the brig while he'd figure out a more efficient way to make me talk. In spite of the pain, I was resolute to keep quiet about the location of the medallion. My resistance exasperated Barbossa and I got beaten up for two days straight until I was hurting too much to stand up on my own."

"Oh, Papa! I am so sorry," said Will with tears shining in his chocolate-brown eyes. The elder Turner couldn't bear the idea of his son being hurt, but he hadn't realized yet that the reciprocity was also true. Will was regretting he hadn't punched Barbossa's lights out when they had been forced to sail together at world's ends to free Jack from Davy Jones' Locker.

"Hush, my William, I'm all right now," said Bootstrap Bill while lightly caressing the side of his son's face.

"And what happened next?" asked Will.

"I was betrayed once again, son. This time, it was by Ted Barnes, the new First Mate. Barbossa had figured out I didn't threw away the Aztec coin; I wanted the curse to be lifted as well, since I was a walking skeleton under the moonlight like everybody else, but Barbossa only thought I may have buried it somewhere in Tortuga. That's when Ted Barnes told him I mentioned out loud the existence of "a child" after my drinking round with Jack. It didn't take long for Barbossa to conclude that I had sent the gold to you – and he had me whipped for a full day to get a confirmation. I… I talked, Will. I am ashamed of myself for endangering your life; I just couldn't stand the pain any more! But I only confessed to have sent the Aztec coin to my child – and Barbossa was in such a hurry to finish me off that he forgot to ask if my issue was a boy or a girl. He jumped to the wrong conclusion that my child was living in the Caribbean and the Aztec Gold would call to them sooner or later. Little could he imagine the medallion was already en route for England, to be kept by a wise little boy!"

"Papa, do not blame yourself for talking!" said Will forcefully, grabbing his father's shoulders and looking deeply into the weary cerulean blue eyes. "Everybody talks under torture, and whoever says otherwise is either a fool or a liar. No one is able to stand pain inflicted by blows or whiplashes, not even me."

"_But __**you**__ wouldn't have talked, my William," _inwardly thought Bill Turner, who sighed deeply before continuing his story.

"I barely had the time to be horrified by the consequences of my confession: Barbossa ordered the men to tie me to an old cannon. He knew he couldn't kill me because of the curse, but he certainly could figure out a way to torture me for an eternity, for the crime of openly revolting against his command. The men obeyed at once, even if a few of them were actually feeling sorry about my condemnation. Pintel and Ragetti were shaking out of fear, but they would never have found the courage to oppose Barbossa's authority. I found myself lying on my back on a cannon's barrel, my arms and legs tied up with chains. Barbossa asked me if I had a few last words to say and, in spite of my wounds, I managed to spat a mixture of blood and saliva right on his face, which turned purple out of fury. He ordered the men to throw me overboard."

"I fell, Will. The last clear sight I had was the _Black Pearl_ shining in all its glory under the sun before the brutal impact of the water and then the everlasting darkness. The cannon sank at an incredible speed until it hit the sea bed and I remained alone in the abyss, buried alive under the weight of the ocean, miles away from the surface. I couldn't move, I couldn't struggle, I didn't even had a chance to break my bonds since Barbossa had ordered to use chains instead of ropes to tie me up, otherwise the hemp would have rot from corruption by the salted water. I was crushed by the pressure and even death couldn't free me, Will! I was a forgotten prisoner trapped in the heart of darkness and no one could come and save me."

"I don't know how many years I've spent there. The only lights I saw were created by monstrous-looking fishes, which tried more than one to take a bite at me and the only thing I could do to make them flee was blowing bubbles at them. Once, the body of a humpback whale sank nearby me and that poor beast's decomposition became my time clock for a while – that and the numerous shells that encrusted themselves on the cannon's iron. In the darkness I yelled, I screamed, I prayed, I cursed, I dreamed, I begged for help so many times! More than once I thought I would loose my mind under that torture."

Overwhelmed, Will threw his arms around Bill's neck and held him tight while tears escaped from the young captain's eyes. The story of Bootstrap's torture was horrible to hear and he wanted – needed – to feel the warmth of his father, who locked him in an intense hug. Will could feel against his cheek a regular throb running beneath the tender flesh of the older man's neck. That pulse made Will sigh in contentment, and he buried himself deeper in his father's embrace. It was _"The secret"_ the Turners was sharing since Will became the physically-heartless new Captain of the _Flying Dutchman_, where the sound of his father's life would allow Will to imagine that he had regained his heart, even it was just for a minute.

Bill kept on telling his story while holding his son: "The worst was yet to come, Will. Once, after falling into a stupor for the thousandth time, I had a dream… or a vision, I don't know exactly. But the image was so vivid I woke up screaming, scaring the Hell out of the luminous fishes once again. I had dreamed that Mary had died and that you were in danger. My heart broke in a two at this thought; I was certain Barbossa had finally found my family, that he had killed Mary and kidnapped you in order to win back the medallion. But how could I ever break my bonds and rescue you, while being crushed alive and trapped at the bottom of the ocean? All I could do was think about my past actions, my desertion and my unrewarded loyalty to Jack. Also, there was a foolish hope nagging inside my mind, about you and I being reunited again. But mostly I thought if I had the tiniest hope of escaping this fate, I would take it. I would trade anything for a chance to reach the surface of the ocean again."

Bill remembered vividly the intense sorrow he had felt at the time, his roars of rage, like a bounded Samson driven mad by sorrow over the loss of his wife and the endangering of his young son.

"Finally, when I didn't have any strength left within me, I surrendered to my doom and expected nothing but to be eaten alive by sea critters. And then… I felt a movement in the water. I opened my eyes and…. I thought I had definitively gone mad. A hammerhead shark, followed by various sizes of shadows, was swimming in my direction. That was already impossible since those animals cannot live in the depths, but when it came closer to me, I just couldn't believe my own eyes… The creature's head was flattened like a shark's but its eyes were human – years later, the left one would move to the far end of his head. Its teeth were razor-sharp and it was carrying an axe in the crab legs that had replaced the fingers on his left hand."

Will was astonished by this declaration. Very gently, he disengaged himself from Bill's embrace to look at his father straight in the eyes: "Papa, was it Maccus?"

"Aye my love, it was him, along with a bunch of others sailors-turned-monsters from Davy Jones' crew. They were sent to pull me out of my abyssal grave to bring me before the so-called Master of the Seas."

TBC…


	9. The Master of the Seas

**Chapter ****9: The Master of the Seas**

**Disclaimer:** still the same as chapter 1

**Author's notes:**

- To Smithy: if I've watched the Oscars Night? You bet I did! French actress Marion Cotillard won the statuette for her performance in "La vie en rose"!

-----------------------------

"Maccus and about a dozen of deformed sailors pulled the canon from the seabed" said Bootstrap Bill, "while stomping down the tube worms that had grown around it, raising a cloud of sand and debris in the process that completely blinded me for a minute; then, they tried to cut my bounds but even their inhuman strength wasn't enough to break the rust-covered chains. I was completely desperate, Will. I thought I had finally died and that the Devil had sent a few demons to pick up my soul, but I couldn't oppose any kind of resistance. Finally, Maccus got tired with the chains so he gestured to his accomplices to grab the canon, lifted it on their shoulders as if it were a coffin, and we headed for the surface. But after spending years in the abyss, my body got somehow used to the immense pressures of the ocean depths and the sudden decrease was unbearable. My sufferings increased tenfold and I tried to signal to these… these _creatures_ to stop, to give me a moment and let me adapt to this change, but they wouldn't take any notice of my struggling – apparently, they were in a hurry to accomplish their mission. Oh, the pain… It felt like my bones were crushed into tiny little pieces. After Barbossa had sentenced me to an eternity of torment at the bottom of the sea I'd never have imagined I could suffer more, but I was wrong."

Will remembered his years at Port Royal, overhearing the tales about free-divers who descended to depths of over a hundred feet on a single breath to find pearls: along with the dangers of hostile sea creatures, wild currents and drowning, more than once those gem-hunters had become deaf, or even died from deep water blackout after diving for too long or resurfacing too quickly!

"I remember a brief glimpse of clearer waters and the realization that we were reaching the surface just before passing out; when I woke up…"

_(Flashback)_

_Bill Turner's eyes snapped open and __he found out he was in a seaman's Hell: creatures in a various state of transformation were looming above him, their bodies a mix of man and fish features. The terrible sight made Bill's blood turn into ice in his veins but when he opened his mouth to scream, only a gurgle and a splash of salted water passed through his lips. He weakly tried to move, but his arms and legs were immobilized and he realized that he was still tied to the canon. Obviously, the creatures which had "kidnapped" him from the seabed hadn't bothered to remove his chains; they were too busy staring at him, giggling and talking wildly between each others, dying of curiosity about this drowned-but-still-alive man. _

_Bill__ was dripping wet and all he could do nothing but inhaling air and spitting out water, drawing his first free breaths despite the intense pain running through his body. All of a sudden a loud, regular thumping sound resonated: the monsters' chattering ended abruptly and the crowd made room for the most horrible sight ever witnessed by Bill's eyes: a half-man, half-sea beast stepped toward the survivor, with octopus-like tentacles in place of a beard on its face and wearing a barnacle-incrusted hat with peaks that resembled of devil horns on its head. The creature took out a lightened whalebone-carved pipe from the corner of its mouth to ask in a nasal voice:_

"_So, this is the distressed soul who had asked for a chance to escape its fate, according to its pleas? Now, this is intriguing!"_

"_Whissat__, Captain?" asked Maccus._

"_Because, my oblivious First mate, this soul belongs to a man who, as you can see, is neither dead nor dying. That's strange, from someone who had been tied to a canon to sink, and yet had managed to stay alive, don't you think? And he had stayed in the depths for a long time, according to the number of clams encrusting the said canon. I must say, I'm surprised!"_

_The monster casually laid a__ lobster claw in guise of his left hand on Bill's arm, patting it with condescension._

"_What do you say, friend? Care to explain?" asked the horrid-looking Captain with an amiable voice, while his eyes were as inexpressive as a snake's._

_Bill's tall frame was shaking in pain and terror; he tried to speak but his lips just couldn't move and he felt like he was going to loose consciousness any time. His eyes weren't focusing and he didn't know if he should enjoy not seeing clearly the tentacle-bearded hideous creature or frightened because he wouldn't know what was going to happen next. Through the ringing of his ears, Bill heard the Captain bellowing the word "__**Rum**__" and minutes afterwards, the alcohol got forcefully poured into his mouth. Its violent taste made the elder Turner cough and gasp, cutting his breathing for a while. But some of the rum managed to fell down his throat and blessed warmth exploded in his stomach, a sensation he hadn't felt since the day Barbossa had him thrown overboard the _Black Pearl

"_You feel better, friend?" asked the monster in a mockery of a polite tone. "Now, will you deign answer my questions or do I have to drown you in a barrel of rum to get an answer?"_

_The other creatures snickered loudly, a horrible sound that could be compared to a thousand of crab claws scratching against an iron slab. The octopus-looking commander asked again, but this time with a steel-like voice:_

"_**Why**__ is it you haven't died?"_

_Bill Turner__ was indeed in a sad shape, and yet he knew his fate would be decided according to his cooperation and the promptness of his answers, so he managed to whisper:_

"_Cursed…"_

_That single word made the Captain's ice-cold blue eyes widen in surprise, and then he roared hysterically:_

"_Cursed??! Did you hear that, men? This man is cursed, so he cannot die!"_

_The unimaginably disfigured "men" exploded in laughter at the tale of Bill's condition, as if they had been told the greatest joke of their damned lives. After a long time, the laughs quieted down – ordered by a movement of the Captain's lobster claw – and then Maccus asked Bill:_

"_And how it is ye are cursed, mate?"_

_This time, the answer was so __weak the hammerhead shark-lookalike had to lean over the tied-up man to catch his words. Maccus then turned to his Captain with a perplexed expression on his deformed face._

"_So? What did he say, Mister Maccus?"_

"_I don' understan' this, Captain: he mumbled sumthing about the moonlight!"_

_Th__at answer made the commander and its crew turn their stares towards the sky, and Bill suddenly realized __that_ _he had been brought on the deck of a ship which looked like it had sank at the bottom of the ocean a century ago. Under the feeble lightning provided by dirty lanterns, he could see the ship's planks were __heavily encrusted with __aquatic fauna__, the sails hanging from the masts had been torn into shreds and there was a strong odour of decomposition floating around. But since he could breathe again, he must have resurfaced, so where on Earth was he?_

_At the same moment, the clouds covering the jet-black sky opened under the influence of a gentle breeze and the brilliant disk of the full moon appeared in a glow of pure silver light. Bill had barely the time to be grateful for this glorious sight before the Aztec Gold curse struck him. The flesh disappeared from his bones in a flash, the chains slipped from his limbs and fell down on the deck with a loud metallic clang, making the monstrous crew turn back and look at him._

_The deformed mariners jumped in fright at this unbelievable sight, including their Captain: an instant before there was a man tied up to a canon, and the next thing they knew it was a living skeleton dressed in rags who was lying on the gun's barrel! That apparition was pretty scary, even for those who were serving under the mast of the most terrible ghost ship that had ever sailed in the Caribbean! Loud gasps of surprise rang out and even the leader seemed shaken by Bill's mysterious transformation. __The elder Turner wasn't in shape to appreciate the irony of his situation: he was freed of his chains at last, thanks to the curse which had caused his torture in the first place! But he was too tired to move, to try to flee the wrecked ship he had been brought to: his sufferings were tying him up more securely than Barbossa's chains ever did. _

_The breeze blown through the ocean and made the clouds slid in the nocturnal sky, obscuring the moon again; __right under the monstrous sailors' eyes, Bill regained his human form. The horrible crewmembers were looking at each other in disbelief, shaking their heads or muttering while looking in awe at the strange sailor they had pulled from his watery grave. __But t__he Captain's eyes were narrowed and his mouth was torn in a grimace, and Bill wondered why the monster seemed crossed by this display of Aztecan gods' power upon his ship. _

"_So there _**is**_ a curse. That's interesting! But apart from this wonderful ability to lay out your bare bones__ under the moonlight__, I fail to see any interest in keeping you onboard, sailor. Bo'sun!"_

"_Aye, Cap'tain?" answered a voice among the crowd._

"_Tie that man up again and send him back to the ocean!" barked the commander just before turning his back to the rescued man._

_Those terrible words pierced the fog impairing Bill's senses, and he found within him the strength to yell in horror:_

"_NO! __PLEASE, NO__!"_

"_No?" said__ the Captain while walking back to Bill with a dangerous gleam shining in his eyes. "It seems I've had heard you correctly, then? You are willing to trade anything, including your soul, for the tiniest chance to escape your cursed fate. In that case, Mister, I offer you a choice: a hundred years of service before the mast, or you return to the depths. Will you serve?"_

_Bill__'s dizziness was overcoming him. Too many events had happened and his suffering from being pulled too quickly from the depths was increasing; sharps jolts of pain running through his body, he couldn't think, couldn't concentrate, and the vertigo would have made him vomit if his stomach had been full. He could only silently beg for help, praying that the monsters surrounding him were just mere hallucinations…_

_The image of__ a little boy with dark hair, brown eyes and a handsome face suddenly flashed in front of his eyes; the lad's crystal-clear laughter rang out loud as he held up his arms towards his father. That vision felt like an arrow of tenderness burying itself right into Bill's heart, and he blurted out:_

"_Will…"_

"_You will serve? Very good! Your soul is mine! Another sailor for the Flying Dutchman! And it seems you'll remain among us for a very long time… since you cannot die. Welcome aboard!"_

_The monsters roared in laughter once again, shattering the rescued man's vision into a million pieces, and it finished him._

_Exhausted, overwhelmed with pain, Bill fainted._

_(End flashback)_

"I woke up two days later. Old Wyvern had been taking care of me – he hadn't melted with the beams at the time, he was officially the _Dutchman_'s cook even if the damned shipmates hadn't eaten his stew in years – by dressing my wounds, feeding me some broth and he had even improvised a sleeping pallet for me to lie on in the cooking galley. Wyvern was feeling so sorry for my fate, like every time a new and terrorized sailor had sworn an oath to Davy Jones, and he was an exception since compassion was an unknown emotion aboard the _Flying Dutchman_! He explained that Jones' choice was just to swindle sailors, in truth it was like trading a misery for another: the oath simply offered oblivion, made you forget who you were, bit by bit, and all the wrongs that had happened to you. However, the wrongs you've done in your life remain to haunt you, day and night. And when rum or violence wouldn't provide the men a reprieve from their remorse… they'd become an integral part of the ship. That's what happened to Wyvern – do you remember when I took you to see him?"

"I was horrified by these revelations and for a short, panic-stricken moment, I've considered going to Jones to tell him I haven't sworn the oath willingly, but Wyvern brought me back to my senses: what would have been the use? The Captain wasn't the kind to be preoccupied by those details, and besides I was still under the Aztec Gold curse. Davy Jones could still have me chained to the canon and sent me back to the depths if I protested, and I couldn't start to imagine enduring that torture again. I tried to persuade myself that serving that monster was better than being crushed alive under the ocean's weight, but little did I know it would turn out to be much worse. Jones' cruelty knew no bounds and I've lost count of the ships we've attacked, the lives who were lost, and the doomed seamen who were later blackmailed into enslavement. As usual, I acted discreetly, worked hard and kept quiet. But in spite of all my efforts, something singled me out from the rest of the crew."

"Your God-given eyes?" asked Will.

Bill raised his head at those words, looking so astonished the young Turner had a hard time to repress a chuckle. Then Bill gently cupped Will's face with the palm of his hand, saying:

"That's the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me, Will."

"And you deserve it Papa, a thousand times and more."

"Oh, my darling…" Bootstrap Bill swallowed hard before pursuing his story. "I wish it had been the cause of my difference, because I would have taken consolation in that thought. But what really took me apart from the other shipmates was… the fact that the Aztec Gold curse had an advantage."

"I don't understand, Papa."

"Shortly after my "enlistment", barnacles started to appear on my body and of course, I tried to pull them out but to no avail. Wyvern told me it was a waste of time; that it was the first effect of Jones' oath and soon, there would be no way for me to avoid the metamorphosis of my body. I would turn into a jellyfish-freak, a shark, or even a whale, just like the other ones! But one night, while I was on watch, I stepped into the moonlight without thinking and… the Aztec curse fell upon me again. The invading barnacles fell on the deck instantly, since those crustaceans couldn't maintain their hold on me with the disappearance of my flesh! That curse was interfering with the consequences of Jones' oath! That gave me a bit of hope during the following years: every time the barnacles, starfishes or corral sprouts would become too invasive on my body, I just walked under the moon's glow and the Aztec curse would "cure" me from those undesirables and I would look human again. Jones was furious, but what could he do? For all his so-called power, he couldn't do anything to stop the moon from illuminating the sky, or the cursed gold from revealing my skeleton. Once, he tried to forbid me from to be on deck at nights, but I've always found a way to slip outside just for a minute to get my "moon treatment" against his tyranny."

"That's why you remained more human than sea creature, even after years of service!" exclaimed Will. "When we were reunited on the _Flying Dutchman_, I thought it curious you were the only one who still looked like a man while the others were transformed beyond recognition, but I was also very grateful for that tiny miracle."

"Wyvern told me to not push my luck, but every time I got rid of the sea critters, my appearance would remind the other shipmates that there were other things in life than Jones and his orders. Besides, the Captain couldn't blame anyone but himself for my presence aboard, he's the one who had thought it hilarious to have a twice-cursed man amongst his crew. But Jones' hold on my soul remained strong and, as the years flew by, I've started to forget why and how my skeleton appeared at nights, only that the barnacles would fell on the deck from time to time. And then… about eighteen months ago, the "moon treatment" stopped working."

"That's around the time Jack, Elizabeth and I ended the Aztec Gold curse by placing the medallion in the Chest of Cortez, sprinkled with a few drops of my blood!" said Will.

"It's the only logical explanation," said Bill while looking at the scar crossing Will's left palm. "The creatures came back on my body with a vengeance, and Jones would laugh at me every time I walked by. The auto-proclaimed Master of the Seas hated any kind of competition with a passion! I can still remember his words: _"One curse down, one more to go, Mister Turner!"_ But I was beyond caring about his jealousy. I became nothing more but another crustacean-crusted submissive slave, slowly loosing his memories and his mind, and who would become an integral part of the ship. Jones finally got reassured enough to send me as an emissary, to remind Jack about the deal he had made with Jones in order to raise the _Black Pearl_ from the depths. You know the rest of the story," concluded the elder Turner.

Will sighed and then he silently sought after his father's embrace, which was given immediately. Bill kept the young man's head close to his chest, understanding Will needed to hear his heartbeat again after this night of confession that had started with a simple question. There had been laughter, tears, guilt, hugs, shame, healing words and in the end, the long ordeal of Bootstrap Bill had finally been told. After a lifetime of adventures, hardships and curses, the former pirate now considered himself being a hundred times blessed since the day he had been allowed to remain at his son's side to protect him. That was the only thing Bill's heart desired.

And the said organ was thumping inside the elder Turner's chest; its vibrations could be felt by both men and this beat was a hymn celebrating courage, reconciliation and the promise of a better future, powered by the shared knowledge that in a few years, faithfulness would lift Davy Jones' malediction once and for all.

In the meantime, the sound of Bill's life had become, for Will, the song of his father's steadfast support, giving him so much love, hope and strength to help him through his own ordeal.

One heart, two souls.

TBC…


	10. The key to my heart

**Chapter ****10: The key to my heart**

**Disclaimer:** still the same as chapter 1

**Author's notes:**

- To Smithy: yes, I was very proud of Marion Cotillard's success! She's the third French actress to win an Oscar, after Simone Signoret and Juliette Binoche ;-)

- This is the conclusion of the story, and I'd like to say a big « Thank you » to all my readers and reviewers!

-----------------------------

Bill Turner was cradling his son in his arms, unconsciously rocking him like he had done it before, years and years ago in England, when he was a struggling merchant seaman and Will a Heaven-sent baby. Things were so simple in the good old days! Not easy, but simple. Bill was living in a modest house which was way too cold in winter, with an almost-empty larder and no future prospects, but at least he had a wonderful wife and a beautiful boy. After an ordeal of fifteen years and more, he had been reunited with his son – but at what costs? Mary's demise, Will's endangerment, and his own sanity almost permanently damaged!

The elder Turner sighed deeply: even if he had confessed his past and received in exchange the forgiveness of his child, his conscience was still feeling heavy. Maybe he had been so used to carry this burden that he couldn't realize he was finally released from it, just like he had been freed from the _Dutchman's_ oath. Or maybe Bill couldn't pardon himself for the predicament Will was actually living, forced to sail away from his wife to ferry souls neglected by Davy Jones' cruelty, with a promise of freedom granted by Elizabeth's faithfulness after ten long years.

Ten years.

One hundred and twenty months.

Three thousand, six hundred and fifty days of his life: the price his William had to pay for being a noble and heroic soul.

A decade to be spent at sea; and all because Will had wanted to free his old man from slavery after Bill had recklessly decided to become a pirate.

Will heard his father's sighs, and he tightened his embrace. The young man had hoped that after Bill had told him his life's story, it would chase away the sadness and guilt which clouded his father's eyes at times. But somehow, the new Captain of the _Flying Dutchman_ knew that it wouldn't be the case. What could he do to make his father feel better?

A fragment of the conversation they had during the night came back to Will's mind, when Bill had said: _"It may sound silly, but I'd like a chance to prove myself, son of mine."_

Will didn't need a tangible proof of his father's affection; one look at those adoring blue eyes would be enough to get a confirmation if the young man had ever wanted one. But what could Will do to make his father understand that he trusted him, fully and unconditionally? Then, an idea came into the younger Turner's mind. It was an idea which would bring, hopefully, an unshakeable confidence to Bill's paternal love.

"Papa?"

"Aye, my son?"

Will gently ended the hug, and Bill watched as his still-kneeling child was searching for something tucked inside the folds of the knotted sash he was wearing around his waist, under his belt. Then Will handed out to his father an object lying in his palm:

"I'd like you to have this."

Bill gasped and his face went white in shock and fear.

_Will __was giving him the key of the Dead Man's Chest!_

"NO! MY DARLING, DON'T!" exclaimed Bill in horror. "You can't give me this! I cannot…. P-Please, take it back! Hide it!"

"Papa, I want you to keep it for me."

"WILL! That's impossible! The _Dutchman's_ Captain must have the chest's key on him… At all times! It's… It's the rule!"

Will looked sadly at his father: even if Jones had been engulfed by Calypso's whirlpool months ago, his fiendish influence hadn't completely disappeared from the _Flying Dutchman_. His ex-crewmembers were still shaking in fear at the mere mention of his souvenir, and even Bill Turner couldn't help but think that Jones' rules still prevailed.

"Says who, Papa?" asked Will fiercely. "Says Davy Jones? You and I both know that his words meant nothing, no matter how highly he prided his authority. Jones was so arrogant and vainglorious! He couldn't be contended with the life of a simple seaman; no, he wanted nothing less but the love and the consideration of a capricious heathen goddess! When she didn't show up, he turned into a monster, played God with innocent lives to satisfy his twisted sense of revenge, and then he had the nerve to make people believe that every word coming out from his corrupted mouth was a pearl."

"WILL, PLEASE! Keep it, it's yours. If you don't have the key on you, it-it might bring bad luck! I won't do anything that might compromise your chances to be freed by Elizabeth. I-I beg of ye, take it back! I love you so much, my William. It would kill me if anything bounded you to the _Dutchman_ forever, because of me."

"Papa, listen to me. Jones had the key on him at all times because he didn't have any choice: he couldn't entrust anybody with it. Who could show fidelity to a monster? I gave Elizabeth the Dead Man's Chest because I know, with every fiber of my being, that she will keep it safe. She isn't a scatterbrained woman who would forfeit my future out of impatience, lust or boredom: she's _**loyal**_ and her love is true. I gave Jack my necklace because I am sure he won't sell it for a few coins or a bottle of rum; I saw his real feelings after Jones wounded me in the maelstrom battle and for all his fine words, he's _**loyal**_ and concerned for the very few people he cares about. Now, I want to give you the key because you are a _**loyal**_, caring man whose feelings remained so strong that a demon's influence couldn't start to damage them, even after all those years."

"I am going through my own ordeal now, and what helps me is the absolute certitude that there are persons in this world that I can trust. My heart's safety depends on a chest and a key, but also on _**love **_and_** loyalty**_, and who better than Elizabeth and you can protect it from any harm?"

Bill had his eyes fixed on the double-stem key lying in the palm of Will's hand. A part of him, the one haunted by the slave's shadow, still wanted to refuse the gift out of superstition, too afraid that Davy Jones' ghost would spring out of Hell to cast an evil spell on his child's head. But another part within him – the recently-freed, devoted father – was touched by his son's confidence in him and his willingness to entrust him with such an important item.

"_You wanted a chance to prove __your worth, old fool"_, thought Bill Turner,_ "and Will is giving you one. Are you going to disappoint him?"_

Bill's blue gaze hardened at the idea: he'd rather be thrown back into the ocean's depths than shrink away from a commitment concerning his William. His hand slightly shaking from the emotional stress, he gently took the key and looked at his son straight in the eyes.

"I will keep it with my life, Will. I promise."

Will smiled; who but his father could be the best guardian for the key to his heart?

"I know you will, Papa, as I am certain you'll always remain by my side to protect me against whatever may happen, and to guide me through my life."

"No one will stop me from doing it, Will. I've sworn an oath to you, and nothing will prevent me from watching over you. And remember, my cherished son," added Bill with a twinkle in his eyes, "when you are reunited with your wife – and that would be simply just and fair, considering your beautiful soul – you've promised me a bunch of little Turners to dot upon to!"

At those words, Will took out a crumpled, often-read letter that he had kept tucked under his shirt for days; it was the latest missive written by his beloved Elizabeth, and he held it out for his father to see it.

William's face was beaming with joy and pride, and Bill felt his heart beating wildly at this sight, as if it wanted to escape from his ribcage!

"A little Turner is coming, Grandpa Bill!"

THE END! ;-)


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